


The (Horror) Story Of Our Lives

by aschicca



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Angst with a Happy Ending, As in Chapter Two is Bill's book, Big Dick Richie Tozier, But really it's all about Richie and Eddie, Everything else is Bill's story, Explicit Sexual Content, Flashbacks, M/M, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, Sorry Not Sorry, The Losers are all relevant in this, The Losers defeat Pennywise in 1989, eventually
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:27:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 34,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27936281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aschicca/pseuds/aschicca
Summary: The Losers defeat Pennywise at thirteen years old, but when Bill sets out to write that story he gets a bit too carried away. The events of Chapter Two become the main plot of his book and there’s possibly one too many revelations. The Losers are extremely unhappy about it.
Relationships: Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh, Bill Denbrough/Audra Phillips, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Patricia Blum Uris/Stanley Uris
Comments: 36
Kudos: 97





	1. This meeting of the Losers’ Club…

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote the first chapter of this story in late September, and for a while it looked like it wouldn't go further than that. The rest came so slowly that I often gave up on it entirely but in the end I have to admit I'm glad I didn't. I hope you will be too ;)
> 
> Thank you, as always, to my friend and Beta, Piksa, for her cheerleading and her work. I love you! All remaining mistakes are mine and mine alone.
> 
> The story is complete and I want to try and post once a week. We'll see how that goes...

_Follow your own path, wherever that takes you. Think of this letter as a promise. A promise I’m asking you to make. To me. To each other. An oath. See, the thing about being a loser is you don’t have anything to lose. So… Be True. Be Brave. Stand. Believe. And don’t ever forget: We’re Losers, and we always will be._

***

The house was situated in a country lane between two villages on the North Downs; it was pleasant, well-maintained, and excellent road links provided easy travel to and from London. Still, it was isolated enough to afford its owners all the privacy they needed.

There was a beautifully landscaped rear garden with a vegetable plot and a small pond that made for a very relaxing setting, and a spacious driveway with off road parking. The house itself was arranged over two floors with very flexibles spaces: The ground floor consisted of a large living room connected to a snug sitting room, a kitchen, a bathroom, a study, and a rear porch; the first floor opened on a large landing completed with a very well furnished library, and there was a master bedroom with four guest rooms, two bathrooms, and a small hobby room.

On a cloudy Friday afternoon, Bill Denbrough sat in the study when his cell phone rang. Seeing his wife’s name lighting up on the screen made him smile.

“Darling,” he greeted, and laughed when Audra immediately launched into a rant against the inept and nightmarish, to use her own description, producers of her latest movie. She was shooting in Los Angeles and the film kept getting budget cuts, causing her to threaten to leave the set at least fifteen times a day. Bill knew they were empty threats because Audra loved to work with the director in charge of the movie, and she was also acting opposite one of her closest friends so it would take something truly terrible for her to quit. Still, she was getting frustrated and frequently called Bill to complain.

Thanking his stars for the millionth time that the movie wasn’t adapted off one of his books, and therefore Bill was neither required to be on set or be involved with it in any way – his wife’s rants aside – he calmly let Audra speak and simply offered understanding and calming words here and there.

“I swear the next thing they’ll cut will be catering, Billy! And then what? Uh? What are we even supposed to eat on this godforsaken set?”

“If that happens, my love, I promise I’ll arrange for daily delivery from that vegan place you love, for both you and Grace,” Bill offered and heard Audra sigh. She talked to someone off the phone and Bill could barely make out what she was saying.

“Thank you,” she told him after a moment. “Grace would like you to send pizza for her.”

Bill laughed. “She got it.”

Audra took a deep breath. “Okay, enough about me. How are things over there? Is everything ready?”

It was now Bill’s turn to sigh. “As ready as it can be, I think.”

“When are your friends supposed to get there?”

“Late afternoon, and that means quite soon,” Bill replied, and closed his eyes. 

“It will be okay, Billy. I know it will.”

“I hope s-s-so. But I d-duh-don’t know if…” Bill’s stutter had been truly awful when he was a kid, but nowadays it only presented itself when he was feeling particularly anxious or stressed; by now Audra knew better than to remark on it or offer well-meaning platitudes that were intended to help but only succeeded in making Bill’s stress levels grow. Bill was very grateful to his wife for that.

“It might be difficult at first,” Audra simply said. “But these people love you, Billy. I know I haven’t met all of them yet but everything that you guys shared, and that you still share, means something. They will understand. And even if they’re angry now, they will forgive you. I’m sure of it.”

Bill took a deep breath and released it slowly, letting Audra’s words wash over him. “Thank you, my darling,” he said and, after promising her to be in touch and let her know how things went – and assuring her that he would always be around to listen to whatever complaint she might have about the movie – Bill said goodbye and hung up.

The thing was: Bill was both looking forward to having the Losers over for the weekend, and dreading it. He’d been tempted to cancel the whole affair more than once in the past week and only the genuine happiness he felt at the prospect of having what he still thought of as his six best friends together again stopped him. It would be the very first time in more than twenty years that all seven of them would be in the same place.

Even before the Summer that changed them, even before they were thrust head first into the most horrifying nightmare they could imagine and came out of it victorious and still together, the six boys and one girl that decided to take the derogatory term they were addressed by and turn it into a badge of honor had been closer than brothers. They’d found one another, chosen one another, and purposefully bound each other together to form the unbreakable force that could, and did, confront everything that life in Derry could throw at them: Be it a vicious gang of bullies, the indifference or the abuse of the adults in their lives, or an alien spider clown.

The Losers, the Lucky Seven. The best friends anyone could ask for or imagine. Together until the end, or at least until life and the need to escape the stifling reality of the small town of Derry scattered them all in different parts of the country first, and the world later causing them to, little by little and without consciously deciding to, stop keeping in touch. Bill kept tabs on all of his friends but, even if there was the occasional postcard here and there, or the note offering congratulations for his latest book, the only two Losers Bill regularly heard from were Mike Hanlon and Eddie Kaspbrak. And even those calls were few and far between.

Mike was a professional photographer and he travelled the world in search of the best shot. He recently published a book with his best photographs and was currently planning an exhibit in a gallery in New York. He was the last of the Losers to leave Derry, forced to attend community college and commute to his grandfather’s farm while all of his friends flew off as soon as they were able to. His grandfather was his last tie to Maine and Mike was stuck at the farm taking care of everything for him; as terrible as it was to say, it was still true that Mike was only free to live his life the way _he_ chose after his grandfather’s death: And from then on he vowed never to let himself be caged anywhere; or by anyone, it seemed since, despite being anything but celibate, Mike never truly had a long-lasting relationship.

Eddie, on the other hand, combined his passion for cars with his business degree and built up what could only be described as a highly successful luxury limo service company. Eddie’s attention to details and his rigorous nature assured a personalized, clean, and extremely safe service, and all of his chauffeurs had to strictly adhere to safety guidelines. Respect for the privacy of the client was also high priority, and all of Eddie’s employees had to pass an extremely meticulous background check. Eddie’s company was based in New York but they also branched out to LA and Washington DC. The hypochondria his mother saddled him with wasn’t as severe as it had been when he was a kid but Eddie still exercised religiously and avoided certain foods, not because he needed to but because not doing so would have him thrown in a downward spiral. He also always carried an inhaler with him. For a few years, Eddie had been married to a woman Bill never could quite warm up to, but he was divorced now and lived alone.

Bill hadn’t seen or really heard from the other four members of the Losers Club in quite a long time, and was only aware of random facts about the careers of three of them. He knew that Stan Uris lived in Atlanta, Georgia, with his wife Patty and that they owned an accounting firm; he knew that Ben Hanscom was one of the most sought out architects in America, and that Beverly Marsh had left her modeling career to open a sophisticated fashion boutique in San Francisco.

It would have been impossible not to keep tabs on the last Loser because Richie Tozier, former stand-up comedian, was one day cast as the main character in what turned out to be the movie of that year and his career took on an entirely different direction. Richie was now able to pick and choose the movies he wanted to star in but he still returned to the stage with one of his self-written comedy sets from time to time. After his break-out movie, Richie came out as bisexual and openly spoke against the prejudice that still surrounded queer actors and forced them to remain closeted in order to still be able to work. If the tabloids were to be believed, and Bill knew better than to do that, Richie was currently in an open relationship with fellow actress Sandy Coleman, but he was also frequently seen with other people.

Bill shook himself out of his musings, shut his laptop, and made his way to the kitchen. The Losers could be arriving any minute now and he wanted to make sure there was something for them to eat and drink when they got there. In fairness, he wasn’t just trying to play host as best he could; he was also hoping that plying his friends with wine would make them more receptive to his explanations, and to his apologies.

Bill wasn’t kidding himself. He knew he would have to apologize profusely to his friends, and that he would have to try and clarify the reasons behind his behavior. He hoped his friends would come to see his point of view and understand why he did what he did. He wanted more than anything else for them to be able to appreciate why he decided to sit down at his desk one day and write a book about everything that happened to them in Derry the Summer of 1989. 

“The Clown,” Bill’s latest bestseller, told the story of seven friends who faced down a murderous, ancient, evil clown when they were only thirteen. That story, the Losers’ story, was all Bill set out to write but, as it often happened, the tale took on a completely different direction and he couldn’t do much more than simply abandon himself to it. In Bill’s book, the Losers weren’t able to defeat The Clown in their childhood like they did in real life and had to come back twenty-seven years later to finish the job. Not all of them made it through, and some of them lost more than others, but their bond, their friendship survived and thrived even beyond that. Such was the message of Bill’s book, but he wasn’t sure his friends could see it that way since he, admittedly, took sole ownership of a story that belonged to all of them, didn’t ask for permission to share it with the whole world, and even took the liberty of changing its course.

The Losers were angry with Bill and they’d all reached out to him to let him know just how much, prompting him to suggest this weekend in his country house in the outskirts of London to clear the air. And also to take the chance to reconnect.

Headlights from outside startled Bill and he made his way to the door to greet the first of his friends to arrive. He smiled openly when he saw Eddie come out of his rental. 

“Hey Eddie,” he greeted, and Eddie nodded at him.

“I’m not sure I like leaving this car out in the driveway, Bill,” Eddie mused. “It might rain later, and what if it hails? I don’t want to have to pay damages, you know?”

Bill nodded. “There’s a double garage over there. Go ahead and leave the car inside, it’s no trouble.”

Nodding, Eddie got back in the car and drove towards the detached garage. Bill looked on for a moment but then he could hear another car approaching and he turned.

There were two passengers in the car and Bill immediately recognized Beverly’s head of fiery red hair. The man driving the car looked familiar but it was only when he parked and came out of it that Bill could place him.

“Ben? Holy… Wow, man, you look great!”

Ben blushed a bit and cocked his head. “Hey, Bill.”

Bill smiled at him and tried not to feel bad when it wasn’t returned. He then looked at Beverly. 

“Hey, Bev. It’s good to see you.”

“I’d imagine it is, Bill,” she replied, unkindly.

Bill had to squash down the need to turn and run inside the house and was immensely grateful to Eddie for choosing that exact moment to come towards them dragging what looked like a heavy suitcase behind himself.

“Oh my god, Eds?” Beverly said, and immediately ran towards him. They hugged and were immediately joined by Ben. The three of them smiled at each other, visibly happy to be together, and Bill was both overjoyed to witness their reunion and incredibly hurt that he wasn’t included. Not yet, at least. Hopefully.

A third car arrived and the driver parked it alongside Ben’s. When Mike came out of it, Bill was finally enveloped in a hug. He clung to Mike and tried to breathe.

“Hey, Big Bill,” Mike held him tight. 

“Mikey, I’m so fucking happy to see you.”

Mike took a step back, studied Bill, then glanced at his other friends. Bill could see him wanting to go to them, but Mike didn’t. Instead he looked at Bill. “It’s gonna be alright. Don’t worry. They’ll come ‘round. And I’ll help you, okay?”

Bill nodded his thanks then looked on as Eddie and Beverly reached Mike and grabbed him into a hug. Ben, Bill saw, had gone back to the car to retrieve his bag as well as Beverly’s.

“Did you two come together?” Mike asked when Ben made his way over and hugged him.

“We met at the airport in San Francisco,” Ben explained. “I was there to oversee a building site and, as luck would have it, I’d booked the same flight as Beverly. So when we landed I just rented a car for both of us.”

Mike nodded. “So Bill,” he said then. “Are you going to let us in or…”

“Yes, of course! Come in, everyone,” he invited, and they stepped in the house. “Guest rooms are upstairs. There’s four so I reserved one for Beverly, of course, and one for Eddie because I know he wouldn’t be able to sleep with someone else,” Bill smiled at Eddie and the latter nodded his thanks. “The other two rooms I think could be shared. I’d say, Mike and Ben, and Stan and Richie? What do you say? I mean, if anyone else would rather sleep alone I suppose someone could sleep with me in the master?”

Mike and Ben assured Bill that they would be fine sharing, and everyone made their way upstairs to leave the suitcases and, in Eddie’s case, to shower and change.

Soon they were all in the living room, quietly conversing with each other, sipping wine, and perusing the selection of cheese and fruit that Bill put on offer. Mike made the effort to include Bill in the conversation but the others weren’t exactly keen on breaking the ice with him and it was clear that the journey towards forgiveness would be a long one.

The lights from another car shone through the window and Bill made his way to the door. He opened it and immediately a very wet Stan barreled through, startling Bill. 

“Wow, I didn’t realize it was raining so heavily!” Bill commented, while Stan hung his wet jacket and shook the rain out of his hair. 

“I think it just started,” Stan replied but before he could say more, the others called for him and he made his way to the living room. Bill realized there was no suitcase in sight and wondered if Stan expected him to go retrieve it from the car. Bill would do it, it wouldn’t be a problem – and if it helped thawing things with at least one Loser it was welcome – but he wanted to be sure that’s what Stan expected of him so, leaving the door ajar, he walked back to his friends.

They were all hugging Stan and chatting amiably, and the smiles on their faces pleased Bill. Bill was about to ask Stan about the suitcase but Ben spoke first.

“No matter the circumstances, it is good to be all together,” he said, and threw a look at Bill, including him for the first time.

Bill beamed.

“Yeah, but we’re not all here, are we?” Beverly said. “Where the fuck is Richie?”

“He’s coming, isn’t he, Bill?” Mike asked.

Eddie snorted. “I suppose he might think he’s too famous to hang with us now.”

“I _am_ too famous for you Losers,” a voice behind Bill said, and everyone gasped. Bill whirled around and found himself face to face with a very wet, very pissed off looking Richie who had a duffel bag slung over one shoulder and was dragging a carry-on behind himself with one hand. “And yet, I’m still playing butler for Stan the Man, being drowned by rain, and coming inside to hear my good name besmirched by a bowl of Spaghetti. Such is my life.”

“Richie!” Beverly yelled and, in two long strides, she was in his arms. Richie dropped his own bag and abandoned Stan’s to return the embrace. 

“Ringwald, you’re a sight for sore eyes,” he said. “Or you were until I saw Ben!” 

Beverly laughed, taking a step back. “Dick.”

“That’s me!” Richie grinned. “And now that I’m here,” he said, looking at his friends and stopping with a glare on Bill, “I declare this meeting of the Losers Club officially open!”

Thunder and lightning followed Richie’s words and a moment later the power went off.

“Well, I’d say we’re off to a good start,” Richie deadpanned.


	2. It Was A Dark And Stormy Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's chapter two ;) Thank you for reading, everyone! I hope you'll keep enjoying.

In the almost complete darkness no one dared to move, and it felt like everyone was holding their breaths. Beverly let out a small noise of distress and blindly grabbed a fistful of Richie’s sleeve. He took a small step towards her, to comfort her as well as himself.

When the first moment of stunned silence broke, the Losers started talking at the same time.

“The hell?”

“Bill, does this happen often?”

“Is there any chance we can…”

“This is all your fault, Richie!”

The latter came, obviously, from Eddie and was met by Richie’s outrage.

“What the fuck do you mean, my fault? It’s Bill’s house, dude! Take it out on him!”

Not able to see him clearly, Eddie turned towards Richie’s voice carefully and glared at what he could see of his form.

“You just _had_ to say that, didn’t you? _This meeting of the Losers Club_ …” Eddie affected a truly awful impression of Richie, “What the fuck, Richie? Those are the same words that _Ronnie_ your stupid, comic relief character says in Bill’s book! You fucking jinxed us!”

“Eddie, that’s not fair,” Mike’s tone was conciliatory.

“What do you mean comic relief?” Richie shouted, completely ignoring Mike. 

“There’s nothing wrong with comic relief,” Ben offered, but his voice was immediately drowned out by Eddie.

“It’s what your character’s there for, isn’t it? To offer stupid jokes and try to make everyone laugh? Isn’t that right, Bill?”

“I… Well, Eddie, actually… T-t-that’s not…” 

“Better to make people laugh then to just sit there reciting made up allergies and diseases like it’s your day job, _Emerson_!” Richie replied.

“Fuck, that’s such a stupid name for my character, Bill!” Eddie said. “And you’re an asshole, Richie!”

“Takes one to know one!”

“Fuck you, Tozier!”

“Fuck _you_!”

“Oh my god, guys!!” Beverly yelled, dropping her hold on Richie. “Is this really the time? While we’re all frozen in the dark?”

“Bev’s right,” Mike interjected. “Is there anything we can do, Bill?”

“Well, the b-buh-backup generator should…” Bill stuttered and, probably taking pity on his rising stress levels, the generator whirred to life and the power was restored cutting off Bill’s words.

Everyone let out a sigh of relief and slowly relaxed. Eddie realized he’d been glaring in the wrong direction the whole time and that he was facing Stan instead of Richie so he adjusted his gaze. He was met by Richie’s stony expression that only slightly hid the hurt in his eyes; Eddie blushed, guilty, and lowered his head.

“Now that we can safely move again, would you mind showing me to my room, Bill?” Stan asked.

“Oh, yes of course. I… As I explained before, I only have four guest b-bedrooms and I reserved one for Bev and another for Eddie. Mike and Ben are sharing, and I thought you and Richie…”

“I see you’re already playing favorites,” Richie glared at Bill, who blushed. 

“I wasn’t…”

“If you want a single room I can sleep on the fucking sofa,” Eddie said.

“Don’t sweat it, Spaghetti,” Richie grinned when Eddie’s eyes darkened because of the nickname. “Which room should Stan and I take?”

“Bedrooms are upstairs,” Bill pointed towards the stairs. “And I think the one on the far left is free?” He asked looking over at Mike who nodded. When Bill turned back towards Richie, the man was nowhere to be seen. “Uhm…”

“I’d better go, too,” Stan said, and moved towards the stairs.

While the others sat back down, Bill followed Stan.

“Thank you for coming, Stan. And for… uh, well… Convincing Richie to come, too. I really thought he wouldn’t. It didn’t look like he wanted to…”

Stan looked at Bill gravely. “I’d say he has his reasons, Bill. Wouldn’t you?”

Bill flushed. “I didn’t…”

“Do you hate him?”

Bill gaped. “Hate him? Richie? No! Of course not! How… Why would you…”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Stan deadpanned.

“But I… I don’t understand. Why would you think that?”

“Well, let’s start from the beginning. _Samuel_ , the character you based on me, killed himself – and really, thank you for that, Bill. Much obliged – and Richie’s character called him a pussy and a coward. Now, without bragging, I think we both can say I’m Richie’s best friend. Definitely his oldest friend. And yet, _Samuel_ dies and that’s _Ronnie’s_ reaction?”

Bill paled. “That wasn’t… I never meant…”

Stan didn’t let him finish. “And then there’s Eddie’s character, _Emerson_. What the fuck was that, Bill? You and I were the only ones that knew about the Kissing Bridge, and what? You just thought it wouldn’t matter to Richie that you wrote about that? That you outed him and his feelings for Eddie? Besides, you had the clown kill _Emerson_ too! _Ronnie_ loves him, he just found him, and he has to lose him too after _Samuel_? Leave him in that monster’s lair to rot? I ask again, Bill, and please think before you answer: Do you hate Richie?”

Bill started to speak but the sound of footsteps coming from the living room changed his mind. He didn’t want anyone to interrupt them so he grabbed Stan by the arm and led him to the study.

Once there Bill pointed to a small sofa and they both sat. “I don’t hate him, Stan,” he said, bowing his head. “I never thought it could be taken that way but I s-s-see now t-t-tuh-that…”

“Breathe,” Stan gently said, and waited for Bill to calm down. “Stutter only comes back when you’re nervous, I take it?”

Bill nodded. “I’m expecting it to happen often this weekend. And I… Stan, does Richie think I hate him?”

Stan shrugged. “He’s mostly just angry, and he feels betrayed.”

“I really don’t hate him. I think it’s actually quite the contrary,” Bill mused. “I always… All our lives, all the time we spent together, before and after Pennywise, I think I always believed Richie to be stronger than anyone else. You guys thought of me as your leader back then but if that was the case, then Richie was definitely my second in command. Hell, when Bev was taken, remember that? I hadn’t seen Richie in days after we fought, after I punched him, and yet he was the very first Loser I ran to! He was the first I wanted to come with me on our mission to save Bev and defeat It.”

Stan cocked his head. “Okay. But then…”

“I write horror stories, Stan, that’s what I do. The kind of stories I write can’t be all puppies and candies! Sacrifices are made, people die, and there’s pain and suffering. I guess unconsciously I thought that only a character based on Richie could withstand all of that and still come out of it alive. I wasn’t trying to hurt him, I didn’t inflict all that on _Ronnie_ because I wanted to show my dislike for Richie! I followed where the story led me and did it knowing that I gave Richie’s strength to _Ronnie_ , and for that he could endure what was thrown at him,” Bill pleaded.

Stan nodded, thoughtfully. “I guess I can see that. It’s shitty, I won’t lie, but I see your point of view. But, Bill, the Kissing Bridge?”

“No, that… I’m sorry about that. I wrote that in on a whim but tried to edit it out immediately. My editor, she… She wouldn’t budge. It made for a perfect heartbreaking moment, she said, and losing it would mean that the _story_ itself would lose something. I just… I guess I caved to her demands. I’m so sorry about that and I plan to beg Richie for forgiveness.”

“Yeah, well, good luck with that,” Stan said, rising from the sofa. “Do you mind if I go upstairs now? I want to change and check on Richie.”

Bill nodded and they made their way back to the stairs. Stan’s foot was already on the first step when Bill spoke again.

“Still, as you said, you and I were the only ones to know about the carving on the Kissing Bridge. No one else did, so no one suspects. I can just say I made it up if they ask, right? For the story, just like I can say I made up _Ronnie_ ’s feelings for _Emerson_. No one has to know the truth.”

Stan turned slightly. “And once again, good luck with that,” he said, then quickly climbed to the second floor.

*

Meanwhile, in the living room, Beverly sat beside Eddie.

“What was all that?” She asked him, glaring a bit.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Eddie, please. You jumped down Richie’s throat for no reason just now!”

Eddie sighed. “Well, excuse me for being on edge because of the dark! It’s not like you all were calm and collected!”

“Eddie,” Beverly censured. When Eddie turned his face away from her, Beverly sighed. “Talk to me, come on. Yes, we were all jumpy because of the power going out but no one blamed anyone else. You attacked Richie and…”

“I didn’t _attack_ him, Bev!” Eddie turned and glared back to her.

“Stupid jokes? Comic relief? It’s all your fault?” Beverly quoted, counting Eddie’s jabs on her fingers. “What do you call that? He was hurt, I know you saw it when the lights came back on!”

Eddie looked down. “I didn’t mean… It’s just… I…”

“Eddie, talk to me. It’s okay, you know? It’s me. I know it’s been a while since we… I’m sorry and I missed you. I never want to go this long without talking to you again. But it’s still me, and you can still tell me everything like you always did.”

Beverly took Eddie’s hand in hers and he offered her a small smile. “I missed you, too. And you’re right, it’s been too long. We need to do better and keep in touch because it sucks to be this distant,” he said, and she squeezed his hand. Eddie sighed, “I think I just… I wasn’t expecting to see him. I thought… I really thought he wouldn’t come this weekend. And not only because he’s pissed at Bill, I mean, we all are,” Beverly nodded and glared in the general direction of the door making Eddie giggle. When he calmed down, he continued, “I thought he would be on set. I read he’s shooting something at the moment and I suppose I convinced myself I wouldn’t see him. When he arrived, I... And of course he got here when I was talking about him! That’s _so_ like him, the infuriating dickwad!”

Beverly chuckled. “Ah, okay, I get it now. Shock and guilt. Dangerous combination.”

“Witch,” Eddie stuck his tongue out at her. “But yeah, something like that. And also… Uhm… Last time we talked was five years ago and we didn’t exactly… Well, it wasn’t our finest moment, no. So I think that also didn’t help.”

Beverly nodded. “I would say you should apologize and start over again but knowing Richie? He probably would end up aggravating you even more and then we’d have a nuclear war on our hands. So maybe just… Try not to berate him again for something that isn’t his fault?”

“I won’t pick another fight, I promise.” 

“Now, I wouldn’t expect that! I have met you two before, you know? Bickering is your language.”

Eddie dropped Beverly’s hand to pick up a pillow and hit her gently with it while she shrieked with laughter. Ben looked on fondly, while Mike walked towards the door to peek outside and look for Bill. When he didn’t find him, he went back to Ben, saw that Beverly had stolen the pillow from Eddie and was now the one doing the hitting, and settled to enjoy the pillow fight.

*

“Took you long enough to find your way here, Staniel.”

Stan sighed. “Why are you lying on the bed with your shoes still on, Richie?”

Still lying face up on the bed with his feet dangling over the edge, Richie grinned and dutifully toed off his shoes. They thumped on the carpet and Stan glared at them like they’d personally offended him. When he looked back at Richie, he saw he’d moved and was sitting cross-legged at the end of the bed; he was, apparently, still waiting for Stan to explain why he hadn’t followed Richie upstairs immediately.

“I was talking to Bill,” he said, and Richie’s expression darkened.

“And what did our gracious host have to share? Anything else he might be planning on divulging to the world?”

“Nothing like that. I had something to get off my chest so I did. He talked, I listened, and now…”

“Now what?” Richie got up off the bed and walked towards Stan. “All is forgiven? You don’t care anymore that he stuck you butt naked in a tub with a razor? That he thought you wouldn’t come back if we needed you? You don’t care that he nicknamed your character _Sampoo_?”

Stan closed his eyes with a groan. “Do not remind me of that!”

Richie giggled despite himself. “I do have to give it to Big Bill, though. He came up with the perfect substitute for Stan Urine.”

Stan glared. “Yes, well he was channeling _you_ , wasn’t he? And it’s only _Ronnie_ , your character, that calls _Samuel_ that. I rest my case.”

Richie instantly sobered up. “My fault, then, uh? Apparently everything is tonight. Remind me again, why the fuck am I here, Stanley? I was clearly not expected to show, and wouldn’t it have been much, much easier if I’d stayed away? Like I fucking told you I wanted to do?”

“Richie,” Stan moved towards his friend and put a hand on his shoulder. “No one wanted you to stay away. You know that, I know you do. They all love you, man.”

“They?” Richie threw a ‘I’m a cute puppy, please give me a treat’ look at Stan and received an eye roll in return.

“Of course, I love you too, idiot,” Stan said, and Richie smiled. 

“Does that mean I can finally get in on that threesome with you and Patty? She’d go for it, you know? She told me so!”

Stan slapped Richie upside the head and moved away from him. “Stay away from my wife. She already wants to adopt you, do not force me to ban you from the house.”

Richie beamed. “As you say, _Sampoo_!”

Stan raised his eyes to the ceiling. “I don’t get paid enough for this…” he mourned, making Richie laugh again. “I’m going to the bathroom to freshen up and change my shirt. Wait for me and then we’ll get back down again together?”

Richie nodded, and then started criticizing every shirt Stan took out of his suitcase until Stan yelled at him that a man wearing a Hawaiian shirt with dancing pineapples on it wasn’t allowed to talk about fashion ever. By the time Stan finally selected a shirt and moved towards the door, Richie was rolling on the bed cackling.

“I’m sorry about Eddie, Rich,” Stan said, his back to the bed. He could clearly hear the sharp intake of breath that followed his words.

“Yeah. He definitely didn’t want me here,” Richie whispered. “Knew it wouldn’t be easy, but I guess I didn’t think he’d be…”

Stan turned to look at Richie’s bowed head. “Just talk to him,” he suggested.

Richie’s head shot up and he affected a grin. “What was that you said? Keep shooting jokes about his mom until he’s so red in the face he might explode? That I can do, Staniel. That I can do!”

“Why me?” Stan sighed and left the room.

*

When Stan and Richie finally made their way downstairs, the table in the living room was set and a cold dinner was arranged. On his way back from the study, Bill asked Mike to help him with dinner and all the other Losers pitched in. All Stan and Richie had to do was sit down and eat with the others.

Conversation at dinner was stilted at first with everyone eating and limiting their interactions to polite requests to pass the food. At some point, Ben stood up to open a bottle of wine and Richie let out an appreciative whistle. Ben blushed profusely and Beverly cackled.

“Damn, Haystack,” Richie grinned. “Knew you’d lost weight but this… My my, mister, I ain’t sure mah mama will allow it, but I damn well want’cha ta take me to tha ball!” He said, using his Southern Belle Voice and making everybody laugh.

“Richie…” Ben pleaded, embarrassed.

“Ya hear that, ma’am?” Richie turned towards Beverly and batted his eyelashes. “The man knows mah name!” He pretended to swoon, and Beverly fanned him with her napkin.

“Stop it, Richie!” She laughed. “Leave poor Ben alone!”

With that, the ice was broken and the atmosphere became a bit more lighthearted, even if it didn’t ease completely since the Losers still hadn’t thawed towards Bill. Richie effortlessly slid back into his lifelong mission to make his friends laugh and just generally have a good time even in the face of what was, admittedly, a distressing situation, and everyone was grateful to him because of it. So grateful that they kept indulging him and letting him get away with stuff that usually would get him beeped more than once.

When Bill came back with dessert, a chocolate pudding he’d purchased in one of his favorite bakeries, he placed everyone’s portion in front of them but didn’t immediately sit back down once he finished.

“I wanted to tell you…” He took a deep breath trying to relax as much as he could so that he wouldn’t start stuttering again. “Thank you for being here. I know… I know it’s not easy for you, and that you’re all rightfully angry right now. But if… If you will give me the chance, I would like to explain… I would like to…”

Bill stopped again, eyes closed and head low, trying hard not to start crying. Mike put a hand on his forearm and squeezed.

“Guys,” Mike said. “I think we can all agree that we want to hear what Bill has to say. So how about we just try to do that? Keep an open mind and…”

“Thanks, Mikey,” Bill smiled as he interrupted him. “I just wish… I only want to say, right here and now, that I’m sorry. The last thing I wanted to do with my story was to hurt any of you. You guys are my best friends, I love you. All of you,” Bill looked at Richie with pleading eyes. “I love you. And I’m sorry.”

Richie met Bill’s gaze but his eyes didn’t soften. Still, he was finally looking at him and holding his gaze for more than one second so Bill counted it as a victory and sat back down.

“Yeah, I suppose it could have been even worse, right? The book, I mean,” Ben offered, conciliatory. 

“Worse?” Eddie yelled. “I died! What could have been worse than that??”

“Ah, I can think of something,” Richie offered, seriously, and everyone looked at him. “The clown could have turned into Eddie’s mom, and she could have been naked! I know you guys can’t know what a spectacle that is, but I do have experience and I can guarantee…”

“Beep fucking beep, you asshole!” Eddie picked up a small piece of leftover bread and threw it at Richie, who simply picked it up and ate it. He chewed with his mouth open, face turned towards Eddie to give him a perfect view. “You’re so disgusting, Richie!!”

Richie grinned, nodding.

“Guys, come on,” Mike chided. “But to go back to Ben’s comment, yeah it could have been worse.”

Everyone turned to him in surprise, and Mike looked at Bill with a devilish gleam in his eyes. Bill’s own eyes widened and he shook his head.

“No, Mike, come on…”

“Yeah, now you have to say it, Micycle! Say it! Say it!” Richie demanded, banging his fists on the table rhythmically.

Mike laughed. “Two words: Sewer orgy.” 

The whole table sat in stunned silence for a bit, then Beverly calmly scooped up some of her pudding, used the spoon as a catapult, and launched it at Bill’s face. Richie laughed so hard he fell off his chair, and soon after everybody joined in.

Bill cleaned up his face and smiled.


	3. Playing Catch Up

After dinner and clean-up, Richie made his way to the bar and started preparing drinks for the others. Beverly sat on the three-seats sofa between Ben and Eddie, while Mike and Stan took a seat on the armchairs. Bill leaned on the wall beside the bar and watched Richie expertly mixing whatever the others requested of him.

“You’re good at that,” Bill remarked, softly. He could see Richie’s posture stiffening at being addressed, but he was glad when his friend acknowledged his remark with a nod and didn’t pretend not having heard him. “Do you have experience, or…”

“Is this your way of asking me if I’m an alcoholic, Bill?” Richie’s voice dripped with sarcasm. 

“No!” Bill sounded horrified. “Of course, not! I…”

Richie waved him off. “Yeah, yeah. It’s just that I’d have expected that sort of remark from Eds, not you.” He said, throwing a glance at the sofa and grinning when he saw Eddie’s raised middle finger. 

“I would have suggested Stan,” Mike joked, and Richie laughed out loud.

“True that, Micycle.” 

Richie moved to bring Stan his tequila and was met with a somber expression. Stan nodded his thanks to Richie, took a sip of his drink, then said, “The Trashmouth could stand to drink a bit less, Mike, that’s true. But I wouldn’t joke about possible addictions. And after all, I do know why Richie’s so talented with a mixer.”

“Oh? Do tell,” Ben smiled, curious.

“Richie?” Stan passed the ball back to him and calmly took another sip of his drink.

Richie made his way back to the bar to start on Mike’s drink and shrugged. “I used to bartend at this club. I worked there for a whole year before the owner had enough of my whining and finally gave me a spot on the stage. It was the Monday spot, mind you. Dead night and all that. But it was a start.”

“I think I read about that in an interview,” Beverly commented. “It was the one in… Uhm… Wait, was it _Variety_ or…”

“It was _Entertainment Weekly_ ,” Eddie said. 

Open vodka bottle still in his right hand, Richie whirled around to face him. “Spaghetti,” he breathed. “Do you read my interviews? Do you commit them to memory? Can you quote from them and recite back everything I’ve ever said?” Richie’s mouth opened in what was, clearly, an affected display of shocked pleasure. “Are you a _fan_?”

Eddie blushed. “Of course, not! Some of my drivers read those magazines during breaks, and your stupid face was on the cover of that number. I must have picked it up out of boredom and…”

“But you remembered it! Enough to correct Beverly about the quote! Wait, did you read the _Variety_ one, too? What did I say there, Eds? Did I talk about my brief stint as a stripper? Or maybe about the time I worked as a waiter and spilled water all over George Clooney’s pants?”

“That was Brad Pitt, asshole! And you were never a stripper!” Eddie yelled. His eyes widened comically when he realized what he let slip, and he put a hand on his mouth.

This time Richie’s surprise was genuine but so was the sheer horror in Eddie’s expression. Richie hated to see it and so he simply dropped the subject. He was dying to ask for more but he would never want to be the cause of such obvious distress in Eddie. Sighing, he turned back towards the bar and tried to steady his shaking hands. 

A collective sigh of relief could also be heard from all the Losers, and conversation started again.

When Richie finished making everyone else’s drink, he poured a couple of fingers of whiskey for himself then calmly made his way to the window and sat on the large, pillowed reading nook underneath.

One by one, almost by unspoken agreement, the Losers started to talk about events in their lives that the others had missed. No one knew how or why they hadn’t done a better job of keeping in touch but all of them were acutely aware of how much they’d missed each other, how much they all wanted to catch up.

Beverly spoke about resolving to leave her modeling career when it still was at its peak because she realized she didn’t want to begin starving herself to cater to the godawful stereotype that wanted models to be skeletal parodies of themselves. She spoke about deciding to open a boutique that helped women of all sizes feel comfortable in their own skin. Elegance and beauty, Beverly said, weren’t to be reserved only to size one women.

Mike spoke at length about his travels and his endless search for the perfect shot. In a way, he confessed, he hoped to never be able to capture the ultimate image so that he could keep on admiring all the beauty the world had to offer and lock it forever in a photograph, to show and offer for the viewing pleasure of everybody who couldn’t experience it first-hand.

Ben talked about his latest project, and about the ones he was most happy with and that he’d even won awards for. Then, in his usual fashion, he bashfully told the others about the cabin he’d built for himself and which design was, in his heart, the only one he was truly proud of. It wasn’t to be exhibited to the world at large, it wasn’t to be shared with anyone but the people closest to him; and, Ben revealed, no one had been invited to the cabin yet.

“Maybe I was waiting for you guys,” Ben mumbled, looking down. A chorus of, “Hell yeah!”, and “Can’t wait to see it, man,” and “Of course we’d love to go!” followed Ben’s declaration, and he smiled.

“Well, I don’t have a cabin, or a fashion boutique, or even gorgeous pictures to share,” Stan said, smiling a bit. “But I guess it’s my turn now, uh?”

“Oh, here we go. Accounting 101. Wake me up when Staniel’s done, ok?” Richie lay down on the nook, long legs bent and feet on the floor, and covered his head with a small throw-pillow.

From his position on the armchair, Stan only needed to lean forward a bit to be able to pull the pillow off Richie’s face. The glare he fixed his friend with was more effective that any beep-beep could ever be, and Richie shot up in a sitting position again, abandoned his glass in order to be able to fold his hands in his lap like a good scholar, and widened his eyes mimicking the zipping of his lips.

Everybody laughed at the display and a small, tight-lipped smile escaped Richie’s lips where he was still keeping them tight together. 

Stan rolled his eyes and started talking. He spoke mostly about Patty and their life together. It was clear from the affection in his voice that Stan had found the love of his life and cherished his wife immensely. 

“She only has one fault. She likes this one,” Stan said, pointing at Richie.

“She doesn’t just like me, Urine. She _adores_ me. She wants to adopt me, and feed me, and defend me from your glare of doom. I am her favorite, Staniel, and Pattycakes is mine, so deal with it!”

Stan looked pained. “I wish I could say something to deny all that but, alas, I can’t. I guess I can only blame my wife’s good nature for this disaster.”

Richie laughed. “She does demand autographs from every other actor I work with but I guess it’s a small price to pay to have her on my side against you.”

Stan hit Richie with the pillow he’d stolen earlier, but he was smiling fondly.

Eddie cleared his throat, and everyone looked at him. “My turn?”

The others nodded and turned their attention to him.

“I guess you guys all remember I majored in business in college, right?”

“You’re not gonna start there, are you?” Richie asked. “We don’t have all night!”

“We _literally_ do, dickhead! There’s nothing else we have to do but catch up!”

“Okay, Eduardo. No need for fireworks,” Richie put his hands up and grinned when Stan hit him with the pillow again.

“Shush,” Stan said, and gestured for Eddie to go on.

Eddie nodded his thanks then started talking about how he came up with the idea to combine his passion for driving and for cars in general with his degree. He built up the company with the aid of a business partner, but soon he was able to buy out the man’s shares and become the sole owner of the limo service. 

“Do you drive clients yourself, Eddie?” Mike asked.

Eddie threw a glance at Richie, who was suddenly fascinated with the pitch black darkness that could be seen from the window, before replying.

“It happens sometimes, if we’re understaffed or overbooked. I enjoy driving so it’s not a problem for me. But I usually reserve this privilege for important clients,” he explained.

Beverly smiled. “He drove me once! Remember, Eds?”

“Of course. One of your last fashion shows in LA, was it? It was a good night.”

“Seeing you was the highlight, I’m afraid,” Beverly sighed. “By then I was so tired of that life. And I’d broken up with my fiancé only two days before…”

“I did read about that,” Ben commented. “Was it… amicable? Did he…”

“No, Ben. He didn’t hurt me,” Beverly glared at Bill. “I wouldn’t allow for _anyone_ to touch a hair on my head. Not after what my father did. I’d kick him to the curb if he even tried.”

Bill raised his hands. “In fairness, Bev, _Beatrice_ the character I based on you did not remember standing up to her father and his abuse. She didn’t remember how strong she was. How strong _you_ are. Yet, as soon as her memories came back, she immediately left her abusive husband… She got back to being the woman you always were.”

Beverly cocked her head in thought, but nodded. Bill sighed in visible relief.

“Richie?” Beverly called then.

“Hmm?”

“Your turn?”

“I thought you’d read it all in a magazine,” he said, smiling in a less than friendly way. 

Beverly startled, and the others all looked at Richie worriedly.

“Richie,” Stan admonished, and Richie closed his eyes.

“It’s not always gonna work, you know?” He whispered to Stan.

“We live but in hope,” Stan deadpanned, and Richie’s expression finally cleared.

“Okay, okay, fine. Let’s talk about me! It is my favorite topic after all.”

Everyone groaned good-naturedly, and Richie snorted. He spoke about his first stan-up gigs, and how lucky he was when one night a famous comedian sat in the audience and reccommended him to her own agent. Richie got a manager and was sent to audition for a variety of movies and TV shows. His career took off when he was cast for a recurring role in a sit-com, and that role won him a small part in a movie. Unfortunately, the movie crashed and burned at box office but the reviews were unanimous: Richie Tozier was the only light in an otherwise abysmal array of performances. 

When his manager suggested he tried for the role of a what on the surface was a happily married man, with a boring, normal life but that, during the course of the film, turned out to be this deeply closeted gay man who’d repressed his nature because of his upbringing, a homophobic father, a violent assault, and his own internalized homophobia, Richie jumped at the opportunity. His performance had him nominated for every single award show that year, and won him a Golden Globe. 

“You should’ve won an Oscar, too,” Ben commented, and everyone else nodded.

“Thank you, Haystack,” Richie bowed his head. “First time nominees rarely win. And I mean, Colin Firth won that year so the award truly went to the best man.”

“You came out after the movie, right, Rich?” Mike asked.

Richie nodded. “I’d been wanting to for a while but I’d never had the guts before. The sit-com I was working on, remember? The main character was this buff womanizer and the actor was told in no uncertain terms that he could never, ever reveal his homosexuality if he wanted to keep playing that character. It was so fucked up, man. But it put me even further back into my own bisexual closet because, hell, I was just starting out and I was loving the job. So the movie… The way it was received and the conversation it sparked gave me the push I’d needed and the courage I’d lacked and… Well, you know the rest.”

“I’m very proud of you, Richie,” Beverly smiled, and Richie returned it.

Everyone else chimed in, congratulating Richie and telling him how proud they were of him for not only deciding to be true to his own self, but also for starting to advocate against the stigma that members of the LGBTQ community are subjected to in Hollywood.

Visibly uncomfortable with the praise, Richie resorted to his old way of dealing with these situations. “It was all self-serving, guys,” he grinned. “Finally I could publicly fuck both men and women. Like, for example, Eddie’s mom _and_ his dad!”

“My dad’s dead, you asshole!” 

“So’s your mom now. Still would,” Richie shrugged.

A chorus of groans followed.

“That’s disgusting, Richie.”

“Aww, come on, man!”

“Beep beep, you idiot.”

“Not as much as I would still fuck _your_ mom, dickwad! In fact, guess what? I did! I fucked her last night!” Eddie yelled, and everyone looked at him open-mouthed.

Richie stared at Eddie for a moment then started laughing so hard he had to kneel on the ground underneath the window, shoulders shaking and short of breath.

“Ah, Spagheds,” Richie wheezed. “Never change.”

Eddie glared at him for a beat, then let out a reluctant chuckle.

After they calmed down, and Richie sat back up, Mike offered the floor to Bill. The stillness and the chill that followed the invitation was palpable, and Bill couldn’t help but shiver a bit.

“Uhm… Well, I’m a writer…” He started.

“And don’t we know it,” Richie muttered under his breath, but no one reprimanded him then.

Bill took a deep breath. “Yes, well, it’s what I’m good at. Always have been, remember? All those Halloween nights spent together at Mike’s farm? We all went around telling scary stories then but mine were the only ones that _really_ scared you all.”

“Yeah, uhm, Richie’s story about the giant, talking dick jumping around town chasing Eddie’s mom couldn’t really compare, could it?” Mike commented, chuckling.

“Oh my god, I’d forgotten about that!” Ben laughed, and Beverly shuddered.

“Me too!” Eddie yelled. “What the fuck, Mike? Why would you bring that back?”

Richie, meantime, was beaming. “That was my best work to date,” he said, smugly.

“Still think he deserved that Oscar, Ben?” Stan asked, and everybody laughed.

Bill smiled, then continued. “I’m not sure why I’ve always been drawn to horror stories. Maybe it was our childhood, or Derry, or Pennywise. Maybe it was G-G-Georgie…” Bill stopped and breathed deeply. “Maybe it’s simply because horror lets your imagination free to roam in directions you usually wouldn’t want to go. It makes you uncomfortable, forces you to be clever in order to come up with ways to outsmart the monsters; it makes the best and the worst of humanity come out. It’s fascinating.”

“It’s also painful,” Beverly commented, and Bill nodded.

“It’s _horror_ , Bev. Of course it’s painful, and bloody, and horrifying. And bad things happen to good people…”

“Bad things only seem to happen to specific people in your last book, Bill,” Eddie said, tone firm and unforgiving but not entirely unkind.

“I don’t think that’s necessarily true, Eddie,” Bill mused. “Yes, some suffer more than others but all my characters… All _your_ characters have their own pain to contend with. But that’s not… You know, the message of the book isn’t that everybody has shit in their past that can come back to bite them one day. It’s about unity, friendship, love. It’s about coming together to put fears to rest once and for all. And loss… that’s part of life, unfortunately.”

“Assuming one stays alive long enough to confront those fears, am I right?” Stan asked, sarcastically, voice slurring slightly and showing his altered state. He mimed the slitting of his own wrists and cocked his head. 

Richie leaned forward to still Stan’s hand, and Stan immediately stopped; he nodded his apology to Richie and briefly squeezed his hand.

The exchange didn’t go unnoticed by the others but no one remarked on it. 

“It’s a horror story, Stan,” Bill remarked once more. “Sacrifices, painful and unjust as they are, are part of it. However, _Samuel_ , the character I based on you, is still an integral part of the story and it’s his letter that concludes the book! It’s the first time my editor is happy with one of my endings…”

“Glad to have been of service,” Stan affected a little bow, and Richie snickered.

Bill offered a small smile of his own. “But I am sorry. Sorry for taking what was _our_ story and telling the world without asking for your permission. I shouldn’t have done that, it was wrong of me, and I could tell you that the words poured out of me before I was even able to think about anything else – it would be true – but that is not a justification. I know that, and I’m sorry.”

“But that’s not what you did,” Ben said. “You did not tell our story. We killed Pennywise in 1989 and he stayed dead. We won. That Summer, we won. We didn’t forget, we didn’t come back twenty-seven years later. You didn’t tell our story, Bill: You changed it, made it into something else. Why did you do that?”

“I… I think… I did it because…” Bill’s stuttered words were interrupted by Stan.

“Maybe because you had more to say than what happened when we were thirteen would allow you, uh?”

Bill gaped. “Stan…”

“No. No, Bill. You know what we talked about before. You know…”

“What you talked about before?” Eddie asked. “When? What did you talk about? More secrets? Oh, that’s just great.”

“Stan…” Richie whispered, but Stan waved him off.

“It’s fine, Richie.”

“Is it?” Richie sounded both baffled and worried. “You’ve been drinking a bit and…”

“There’s no secrets, Eddie,” Bill interrupted. “Stan asked about something that happens in the book and I explained. That’s all. And Stan, you know I didn’t mean for that to come out..”

“Come out is fucking right!” Stan was seemingly unstoppable, and Richie was looking increasingly agitated. Unfortunately no one paid him any mind, everyone’s eyes were fixed on either Bill or Stan.

“That’s not what I intended to do! The story…”

Stan put his hands in the air. “The story?? That’s what you’re going with? The story needed that? The Kissing Bridge?”

“Stan!” Bill yelled.

“Holy fucking shit,” Richie breathed out, and the others finally looked at him. He was white as a sheet.

“Richie?” Beverly called, and moved to get up and go to him.

Richie rose and ran out of the room. Everyone else also shot to their feet, unsure if they wanted to run after Richie or stay rooted and see where the discussion was going.

“Richie!” Ben moved towards the door, but Stan’s shout stopped him in his tracks.

“Are you happy now, Bill?” Stan yelled.

“Me? You started it! You!”

“I did? You wrote it in the damn book!”

“I was gonna pretend I’d made it up! I told you that! I was gonna say I made the whole R plus E thing up myself!” Bill clenched his fists and breathed harshly.

Stan shook his head, and then unsteadily left the room to go after Richie. Stunned silence followed his exit and then…

“Wait, was that true? Did Richie really carve our initials on the Kissing Bridge?” 

Eddie looked shocked and a bit flushed, and Bill groaned. 

Things were slowly going to hell and it was only the first night…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry! Try not to be too mad at Stan, he did ask for tequila after all ;) Besides, it was bound to come out (pun intended) sooner or later.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	4. The Second In Command

One by one, the Losers made their way upstairs. Their hive mind, which apparently hadn’t suffered the effects of their distance, brought them all in front of Richie’s door and it was clear all of them wanted to knock and check on him, help him any way they could – not to mention understand what was going on.

Eddie and Bill stood a bit behind, unsure whether their presence would be welcome. Eddie’s question back in the living room had gone unanswered and for once he didn’t insist. He was still reeling because of what had transpired and didn’t feel ready to see Richie or hear explanations about the carving; he was also sure Richie wouldn’t want to see him so Eddie simply sighed and shut himself in his bedroom. His retreat served as a kick-starter for the others and soon no one was out on the landing anymore.

Bill was the last to leave. He remained staring at the door of the room he’d assigned to Richie and Stan, trying to determine if the bravest thing to do would be going inside to talk to Richie or let some time pass and respect Richie’s obvious wish to be left alone. In the end, sighing heavily, Bill retired to his own bedroom.

*

“I am so damn sorry, Rich…” Stan knelt in front of the bed, trying to get Richie to look him in the eye.

Richie had removed his glasses and was laying on his stomach on the bed, face completely pressed in his pillow. He refused to acknowledge Stan in any way.

Stan sighed. “Richie… I made a mistake asking for tequila. I know the effect it has on me, I know even just a sip makes me loosen up and unable to control what comes out of my mouth. I just… Well, this weekend’s not easy for me either, you know? I think I believed that loosening up would be good just this once. But I didn’t… I should have realized that my anger would be the first to come out and… Shit, I’m so sorry, Richie. I never meant to hurt you. _Never_. Please say you believe me?”

Richie shrugged but otherwise didn’t budge.

“Rich, you’re killing me,” Stan pleaded. “Look at me, come on. Let’s talk.”

Richie turned his head slightly and glared at his best friend with one, red-rimmed eye. The sight made Stan suck in a breath at first, but then he started chuckling and that finally got a real reaction out of Richie: He rolled on one side, presenting Stan with his tear-streaked face, and did nothing to hide his pain.

“You even laughing at me now?” 

Stan sobered up immediately. “No! Of course, not! Richie…” Stan took one of Richie’s hands in his and squeezed. “I just… Your expression, you know? The way you were able to say so much with one single look while you were still faceplanted in your pillow. I would never laugh _at_ you, Rich. Only _with_ you. But I understand it’s no time for laughter… Sorry, again.”

Richie’s eyes closed for a long moment, and when he re-opened them Stan could see his apologies had the desired effect and Richie was beginning to forgive him; but the pain was still there and Stan acted without even thinking about it. He lay down on the bed and tugged Richie until he hid his face in Stan’s chest. Stan held him while he cried again and shed a few tears with him.

The position they were in wasn’t the most comfortable since Richie was curled impossibly tight in on himself and that didn’t really leave much space for Stan to lie comfortably while holding him. Soon, a painful groan left Stan’s mouth and Richie chuckled.

“Oh yeah, daddy, moan for me,” he said, in a lewd manner, startling a laugh out of Stan.

“My back hurts, asshole!” 

“That’s what they always say after a night with me,” Richie quipped.

Soon they were giggling like kids and Richie rolled backwards on the other side of the bed so they could both lie comfortably.

When they calmed down, Stan apologized again but this time Richie waved him away.

“I get it, Urine. You’re banned from even looking at tequila from now on.”

“Oh believe me, only thinking about the headache I’m gonna have tomorrow, I swear I won’t drink another drop of anything alcoholic again all weekend!”

“I’ll drink to that,” Richie cheered, and Stan snorted. “What did… Uhm… After I left, did anyone… Was everything… Yeah, no, ignore me.”

“No one said anything, Rich. I came after you and I bet the others lingered outside the door for ages before going to bed themselves.”

“So no one said… No one asked…”

“Oh… Uhm… When I was coming upstairs I think I heard Eddie ask about… yeah. But I heard people outside of this door almost as soon as I closed it behind me, so I’m sure Bill didn’t…”

Richie closed his eyes again. “Shit…”

“Look, Richie, Bill said he meant to edit that out,” Stan revealed, and Richie looked at him with wide eyes. 

“He… Really? So Bill, he…”

Stan nodded, “Yeah, remember we spoke in the study? I asked and he said that his editor convinced him to let that R plus E in because of the impact it leant to the tragic love story or some shit like that. Bill regrets it and… Yeah, so he said he wanted to tell the others he’d made that up. This time, Rich, it _is_ all my fault that it came out. Bill didn’t want that…”

Richie nodded, pensive. “Okay, I… Okay. But, I don’t know if I can still stay here, Stan. Don’t know if I can face Eddie or…”

“If you want to go, we’ll go,” Stan vowed. “I’ll come with you, I promise. But, Richie… We’ve come this far. _You’ve_ come this far, and I know you missed the Losers as much as I did. As much as they did us. Wouldn’t it be worth it to stay a little longer and re-connect? Talk to Bill and let him explain properly? I can help you avoid Eddie if that’s what you need – though you know I think you two should talk – but please consider staying. Sleep on it, okay? If you wake up tomorrow and still want to leave, we’ll go. I’ll pack my bag and won’t say a word. Deal?”

Richie sighed. “Deal.”

*

Richie woke up early the following morning. He blinked owlishly and tried to take in his surroundings. Everything looked blurry without his glasses and he had a dull headache, so at first he couldn’t remember where he was. He sat up gingerly, trying not to move too much, and startled when he felt someone lying at his side. He was only able to relax when he squinted and recognized Stan’s form under the duvet.

Spotting his glasses on the nightstand, Richie picked them up and donned them, his vision finally clearing. As Richie got up and went to the door, memories of the previous night assaulted him instantly and he groaned, hesitating. He needed the bathroom but he didn’t want to risk running into anyone else before he was ready, before he decided if he wanted to leave or try to stay and face the others. Face Eddie.

Luck was on Richie’s side – although it might have been due to the very early hour – and he was able to use the bathroom and come back to the bedroom without encountering anyone. Knowing he would be unable to fall back asleep, Richie went to the window and stared outside for a while. The sun was shining and the sky was completely devoid of clouds so Richie decided to venture outside. 

He slipped on his trainers, zipped up a jacket on top of the T-shirt he’d slept in, and made his way downstairs uncaring that he was still wearing pajama bottoms. After debating with himself whether his need for coffee was worth risking waking up the others, he shrugged and made his way out on the porch.

The air was crisp and Richie breathed deeply feeling his headache slowly receding. He stood with his back to the front door for a little while, then decided to explore. The porch ran all around the house and Richie followed it till he reached the back garden. He spotted a couple of benches near the small, artificial pond and made his way there. He sat, closed his eyes, and tried to clear his mind.

Richie had no idea how long he’d sat outside but it still felt too soon when his peace and quiet was interrupted by a voice.

“Hey, Richie,” Bill greeted and, after Richie nodded his acknowledgment, made his way towards him and sat beside Richie on the bench. “Did you sleep okay?”

Richie shrugged. “I slept.”

Bill poked at Richie’s arm with something warm and Richie turned to look at it. He smiled when he saw the mug and accepted it gratefully. Richie and Bill sipped their coffees in silence for a while, but just when Richie was starting to relax Bill spoke again.

“I’m so fucking s-s-suh-sorry, Rich…”

“Bill…”

“No, please. Let me… P-p-please!”

“I get nervous, too, you know?” Richie offered, and Bill’s eyes widened. “I mean, I don’t stutter when it happens to me but… Yeah, it can be crippling. But we manage, don’t we? We manage. And maybe you don’t need to be nervous around me, Big Bill.”

Bill wiped a little tear at the corner of his eye. “Thanks, Rich. Fuck, I love you, man.”

“Yeah,” Richie shrugged. “I’m easy to love. Or, you know, maybe I’m just easy…”

Bill chuckled. “Idiot. In all seriousness though, I need to say how sorry I am. Stan said… I don’t hate you, Richie, please say you know that?”

Richie stared at Bill wide-eyed. “Yeah, I know that! It may come effortlessly for you, or others, to use me as a punching bag, but hate…”

“Punching… No! Richie, no! That’s not… You’re my lieutenant!”

“I’m what now? Who died and made you the boss?”

Bill grinned. “Well, you guys did follow me around blindly when we were kids. But if I was ever in charge of our little band of Losers, then you were right up there with me. When I turned around, be it in a tunnel while I was searching for proof my little b-b-brother washed up in the Barrens or simply walking the hallway in high school, you were by my side. Ready to follow, ready to help, ready to suggest new ways we could fix things… or break them some more.”

Richie smiled, blushing a bit, but he simply shrugged.

“I didn’t base _Ronnie_ on you because I needed a punching bag. Or a comic relief character. I just gave him all the qualities I could always see in you, and that included your strength. _Ronnie_ is such a complex character, Rich, and I’ve often been asked how I was able to write someone like that, someone so nuanced, so talented and effortlessly funny but also profound and insightful. And well, Rich, it was damn easy because… that’s you, man. I described you.”

Emotions visibly threatening to overwhelm him, Richie shook his head. “I must ask you to stop now, sir,” he said after a moment, using his Victorian damsel Voice and battling his eyelashes coquettishly. “This is not propah, my poor dear papa would challenge you to a duel if he heard.”

Bill laughed. “And your Voices! Damn, Richie, it was so much fun to invent some for _Ronnie_! The most fun I had was during the scene in the Clubhouse, remember? When I had _Ronnie_ do that Pennywise impression? I knew you’d be wonderful at it and…”

“Time to float,” Richie interjected, in an absolutely spot-on imitation of the clown’s voice, and Bill instinctively jumped back, wide-eyed and scared, before he doubled over laughing.

“Yes! That’s it!” He yelled, and Richie laughed with him. “Fuck, please tell me you’re gonna do it again when the others are around to hear it.”

Richie giggled. “Stan would murder me…”

“I think about it daily,” Stan deadpanned from behind them, and both Bill and Richie jumped on their feet and turned around.

“Jesus Christ!” Richie placed a hand on his chest, and Bill nodded.

“I don’t know her,” Stan replied, and the three of them laughed. “What’s going on here?”

“Bill was working up the courage to ask me to Prom,” Richie replied.

“Only took me, what, twenty-two years?” Bill grinned.

“It’s the stutter, man,” Richie patted Bill’s back when he choked on a laugh.

“Are you okay?” Stan looked at Richie intently.

Richie sighed, nodding. “More or less. Billiam here was saying how much he loves me, and you know me Stanny, I can never resist having my ass kissed.”

Stan rolled his eyes. “Yes, well, if you’re all done now Bill, could you come inside and tell us how to work the coffee machine? I see you and Richie figured it out, but the rest of us would like some, too.”

Bill smiled and moved towards the house but both he and Stan stopped when they realized Richie wasn’t following.

“Rich?” 

“Yeah, uhm… Who’s… In the kitchen, for the coffee, who…”

“Eddie hasn’t come down, yet,” Stan replied, and Bill looked at Richie with understanding. 

“I can still fix that, Rich. I can say I made that up…”

Stan looked at him skeptically, and Richie shook his head.

“There’s nothing Eddie hates more than being led around by his nose, Bill, you know that. Besides, he wouldn’t believe you. No, I…”

“We’ll help. Okay? It’s our fault,” Stan looked at Bill who nodded eagerly, “and we will help.”

“Thank you, _Sampoo_.”

Stan groaned, and Bill laughed out loud.

“Did you like that?” Bill asked, jumping from foot to foot like a kid in front of a treat.

“Ah, Billiam, let me tell you just how much.”

With a well-practiced long-suffering sigh, Stan followed his friends inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did say this was a slow burn, right? Plus, people truly needed to apologize to Richie so this chapter was absolutely necessary. And I had fun with it. Lol
> 
> Thank you for reading and stopping by to leave kudos or comments. I appreciate them more than I can say :)


	5. Private Conversations

Bill and Stan kept their promise to run interference and Richie didn’t find himself alone in a room with Eddie, or even standing close to him, for the whole morning. Stan plastered himself at Richie’s side and steered him away every time he thought Eddie was getting too close, and Bill tried to find things for Eddie to do in rooms where Richie wasn’t.

The others noticed, of course, but no one remarked on it and instead they instinctively divided into two small groups. Beverly was the only one to spend time with both groups alternatively, but the morning saw Bill, Eddie, and Mike in Bill’s study, and Richie, Stan, and Ben sitting in the veranda that faced the back yard. 

Richie was intensely grateful for what he was sure would be but a short reprieve, and simply let Stan’s voice, excited and happy to be asked by Ben to talk about the last time he went bird watching, lull him into a sense of calm. 

In fairness, Eddie didn’t exactly protest this unspoken agreement that saw his friends place themselves between himself and Richie, and also between himself and his need to get to the truth of what Stan’s words had uncovered the night before. His almost sleepless night hadn’t left him in a great mood and the last thing Eddie wanted to do was confront Richie in a way that would make him either clam up for good, or launch into a series of raunchy jokes that would have Eddie scream at the top if his lungs and leave him as far from the answers he sought as possible. Besides, talking to Richie while in a bad mood could result in someone getting hurt and that was the very last thing Eddie wanted. 

Hurting Richie always caused an onslaught of painful guilt in Eddie, and he’d already hurt him more than he’d ever intended after the debacle with the power going off. 

*

The very first time Richie and Eddie found themselves sharing the same space was at lunchtime, after Bill made his way to the kitchen to put something together and, one by one, the others joined him and started to help. They chatted while they worked and at some point Richie teased Ben’s blush after Beverly complimented the sauce he was preparing. Beverly pinched Richie’s ass causing him to yelp, jump, and drop the carrot he was holding, and everyone laughed.

The pleasantness lasted throughout lunch and, after the food was eaten and the table cleared, Eddie excused himself and went to his bedroom to take a nap. Mike and Ben followed his example, while Stan chose a book from Bill’s library and went to read it outside in the sun. 

Holding the remote, Richie sat on the sofa in the living room and tried to find something to watch on TV. Bill moved to sit beside him but his phone rang and, when he saw Audra’s name, he excused himself and left to take the call.

Richie had just chosen an old movie in black and white when Beverly tapped on his shoulder. He looked up at her.

“Yes?”

“Scoot a bit.”

“Uh?” 

Beverly sighed and gestured for Richie to move a bit away from the arm of the sofa. After Richie complied, Beverly sat sideways in the space he’d created so that her back was against the arm of the couch while her legs rested on Richie’s lap. She wriggled a bit to get comfortable, then placed her head on Richie’s shoulder and hugged his chest.

“You do know this couch is large enough for three people, right? There’s really no need for you to sit on top of me.”

“Shut up, Richie. Yes, there is a need.”

“Bev…”

Beverly raised her head enough to glare at Richie. “There is. A. Need.”

She waited for Richie to nod then curled back into him. He placed a hand on top of her legs and cradled her back with the other, and they relaxed together watching the movie.

“Ah, I love old movies,” Beverly commented, while the credits rolled.

“Thought you’d fallen asleep.”

“Nah. I rested my eyes a bit here and there maybe.”

Richie chuckled. “Of course you did,” he commented, and she slapped his stomach.

Richie squirmed a bit underneath her prompting Beverly to look up at him.

“You okay?”

“I’m awesome, Bevvie. Look at me,” Richie said, putting on his best ‘I’m a sexy beast’ face. “Look at me.”

Beverly snorted. “Does that look really work on people? Like, has there been a time when looking like that got you laid? ‘Cause I can’t see it…”

Richie’s mouth opened into an outraged O. “I’ll have you know that women and men alike fall on their feet to come to bed with this,” Richie remarked, gesturing at himself. “I’m so high in demand I have to pay a bodyguard to beat people away with a stick!”

Beverly giggled, “Of course you do. Doesn’t your girlfriend mind?” Richie tensed causing Beverly to get instantly serious. “Rich?”

“Girlfriend?”

“Yeah, I mean… Sandy something or other. I don’t… I’m sorry I don’t keep up with gossip mags and we haven’t really spoken in a long time, but last I heard you two were together?”

Richie sighed. “Sandy is a friend. Yeah, we dated for a while, a long time ago, but we don’t… we’re not…”

“Richie, you don’t have to tell me if…”

“No, I… It’s okay, Bev. To be completely honest with you, I’ve been focusing a lot on my work lately and the chances to have more than a one night stand haven’t been great because of it. Sandy and I… She’s in the same business, has the same issues, so it happens sometimes, when we’re both alone and in need of a human contact that lasts more than an hour or two, that we look for it in one another. I would call us friends with benefits but, really, the only benefit we’re both looking for is companionship more than sex so…” Richie trailed off, shrugging.

Beverly hid her face in Richie’s neck and tightened her hold on him. “I’m sorry for assuming, Richie…”

Richie nodded and held her.

“There’s no one in my life, either,” Bev confided. “My last relationship lasted five weeks and I’m not sure you could even call it a relationship. He was… I feel bad about it now but… He…”

“He what? What did he do, Bev?” Richie asked, tensing up as if ready to jump and go beat anyone who might have hurt his friend.

“Would you guys stop assuming I’d last a single day with someone who dared touch a hair on my head, let alone five weeks?” Beverly glared, but it softened when she met Richie’s eyes. “I know you love me, Trashmouth. But I can take care of myself. I’m not _Bea_ , the character Bill based on me. I do know what I’m capable of, and I _am_ running towards something instead of away from it.”

Richie nodded. “So what was he? Why did you break up with this guy?”

Beverly sighed. “Hell, Richie, he was so boring,” she said, pained, and Richie cackled. “Stop it! It’s not… Don’t laugh, Richie, that’s mean!” 

Beverly tried but soon she was laughing along with Richie, curled against his chest and moving along with it.

When they calmed down, and Richie teased Beverly for being so worried about calling someone boring that he scared Richie into thinking the guy had been a psycho, they noticed that another movie started and watched a few minutes of it in silence.

“Richie?” 

“Hmm.”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Am I allowed not to answer?”

Beverly looked up at Richie. “Always. You know I wouldn’t force you to talk about…”

“I know, Bev. Go on, ask.”

“It’s true, isn’t it?”

Richie cocked his head, looking down at her. “I’m gonna pretend to be stupid here – and it’ll take all my talent as an actor since we both know I’m a genius – and ask you to explain. What’s true?”

Beverly rolled her eyes. “I saw that carving on the Kissing Bridge, back in Derry,” she said, and Richie closed his eyes. She kept talking anyway, “I knew when I read it in Bill’s book that he didn’t come up with it himself. I thought he’d seen it too and decided to use it for _Ronnie_ and _Emerson_ , but… That’s not what happened, is it? Did you carve it?”

Still with his eyes closed, Richie nodded. He was breathing harshly, visibly trying not to let his emotions get the better of him.

Beverly held him and didn’t insist. She placed her head back on his shoulder and tried to steady her breathing hoping that Richie would follow her example and relax once more.

It worked, but Beverly kept holding onto Richie even after he calmed down. Maybe that was the reason why he decided to speak again.

“You remember the fight we had? After Neibolt, the first time, when Eddie broke his arm and Mrs. K forbade us from seeing him again? Bill and I fought…”

“He punched you, didn’t he? I couldn’t believe it when he did…”

Richie chuckled. “Yeah, sure. You were so deep under his spell he couldn’t have done anything wrong in your eyes if he tried!”

Beverly swatted Richie’s arm, giggling. “Like you guys were any different! We all loved Bill back then. And we still do, even if he’s such a piece of shit!”

“Really, don’t mince words, Bev. It’s me, you can tell me how you really feel,” Richie grinned.

“Idiot. Did you forgive him already? You?”

Richie shrugged. “I don’t know that I fully forgave him, Bev. But we talked a bit, and Stan also told me some things Bill said, and… Yeah, maybe I’m on my way towards that. Thought you were too, after last night, him justifying why your character married a carbon copy of your dad.”

Beverly nodded, pensive. “Maybe. Yeah. I still want him to grovel a bit more.”

Richie laughed. “Ah yes, groveling. I wanna see that, too.”

They grinned at each other, then Beverly asked him if he wanted to continue telling her what he started to say.

Richie looked at her softly. “After that day I was alone. We all were for a while, until the fucking clown took you and we came to kick its ass. I was alone, and one day… Bowers’ cousin called me a fag in front of him and his goons, they chased me out of the arcade, and then Paul Bunyan tried to kiss me and eat me. No joke,” he said, when he saw Beverly’s shocked expression. “I escaped and then I… I just… I wanted one good thing to come out of that fucked up day, you know? And I missed Eddie so much. Mrs. K had him sequestered away and I didn’t dare climb the tree outside his window to see him because I didn’t know if he would want me to.”

“He would have wanted you to, Richie, of course he would have.”

Richie nodded. “Yeah, he would have. He said as much later on that same Summer. But at the time I wasn’t sure. I wanted… I think what I wanted that day was to have him close, any way I could have him, and the only thing I could think of was to put his initial next to mine on the Bridge. That was as close as I could be to Eddie then. Of course, after I carved that I realized that wasn’t the only reason. I loved Eddie, I knew that already even if maybe I didn’t know just how much, or how deeply. I wasn’t ashamed of it… I wanted not to be ashamed of the way I felt for one of the best friends I had in the world, or of what that feeling said about me. I carved our initials on the Kissing Bridge as a way to tell myself it wasn’t wrong… That _I_ wasn’t wrong.”

“Oh, Richie,” Beverly clung to him and they breathed together again. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there to help. I wish I could have…”

“I know, thanks, Bev. Stan helped. He knew, I… I told him.”

“And Bill knew, too?”

“Yeah, but I didn’t tell him. He just walked in my room without knocking one day and overheard me talking about it to Stan. He promised not to tell and, at least back then, he didn’t…”

“I know you said Bill apologized and explained but can I kick his ass anyway? Please?” Beverly glared, making Richie laugh.

“By all means! Just make sure I have a prime seat to the event, Marsh.”

“You got it. But, Rich?”

“Yeah…”

“I know why you didn’t say anything back then, or even afterwards, but now I think…”

Richie interrupted her. “I know what you think. Stan thinks the same thing. But why do I have to, uh? Why do I have to tell Eddie anything about it? What good would that do, and why does he have the right to know my feelings if I don’t want to voice them? Why is Eddie entitled to any sort of explanation? This is about me, not him!”

“What the fuck do you mean, this is not about me?” Eddie yelled from the door, making both Richie and Beverly jump.

Beverly hastily sat up and stood, walking towards Eddie with her hands raised. “Eddie, darling, maybe now it’s not the time…” 

Eddie ignored her and kept looking at Richie. “Well?” 

“Well, what?” Richie also got up off the sofa but didn’t move away from it. 

“For fuck’s sake, Richie!”

Beverly put herself between the two of them. “Eddie… Exactly how much of my _private_ conversation with Richie did you hear?”

Eddie glared at her. “If you want to have a private conversation with someone, Beverly, you shut the door or find a place where no one can interrupt! Stop blaming this on me and let _him_ answer me!”

“Why don’t you answer first, Eds?” Richie interjected. “How long were you eavesdropping?”

“I wasn’t… I just walked in here! I woke up from my nap, and came downstairs looking for you guys! Would you two stop making me into the bad guy?”

Eddie was visibly distressed so Beverly let out a small, guilty squeak and immediately went to hug him.

“You’re not the bad guy, Eddie,” she whispered in his ear. “We were startled, that’s all. And yes, maybe we should have made sure we were alone and in no danger of being overheard but…”

She released Eddie and took a step back, still holding onto his shoulders with her hands. “I really do think it’s important to know how much you heard,” she reiterated, but softened her words with a smile this time.

Eddie sighed. “Richie was saying how I didn’t deserve an explanation because this thing is not about me. And that’s bullshit! It’s bullshit, Richie! Why don’t I deserve an explanation? What have I done? And how can you say this isn’t about me, too? R plus E, Stan said, that’s what Bill wrote! How can it not be about me? Is there another E that you know of? Wait… Is there? I mean… I… uhm… Is that why you said this doesn’t concern me? Because it doesn’t? Who… Who is he? She?”

Beverly turned her sad eyes on Richie and he understood what she wanted from him, even if she didn’t voice it.

“There’s no other E,” Richie murmured. “Of course, there isn’t. But I… Eds, I don’t want to talk about it. Can’t you understand that? Can’t you respect it? Please? After what happened… After the way we left things, the last time we saw each other, don’t you think I have the right not to want to talk about this? Or at least decide when and where to do it?”

Eddie wanted to keep arguing, both Richie and Beverly could see it, but Stan entered the room. He marched towards Richie, grabbed his arm, and calmly walked him out.

“Stan…” Eddie tried, but a look from his friend stopped him and he sighed, dejected.

“So,” Beverly asked when Richie and Stan left the room. “What exactly happened the last time you saw Richie?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Raise your hand if you're envious of Beverly cuddling up to Richie *raises both hands and feet* ;)
> 
> Next time we're going to go back and see what happened the last time Richie and Eddie saw one another. Thank you very much for reading :)


	6. Remember That Night Part I

“Eddie?”

“Yeah, Bev. I heard you.” Eddie passed a shaky hand through his hair, then moved towards the couch and sat down. 

Before going to sit beside him, Beverly closed the door so that this time no one could walk in and interrupt. Noticing, Eddie smiled at her.

“Learn from your mistakes, they say,” Beverly winked. “So,” she asked after she sat down, “What happened the last time you and Richie saw each other? And when was that? I know the two of you had that bad fall out after the whole ‘College Debacle’…”

“Was I so wrong about that?” Eddie closed his fists in frustration. “What was so wrong with me wanting Richie to have the education he deserved? Hell, Beverly! He’d always been a straight A student! Remember we used to study our butts off for days before a test, and Richie only had to read the subject for a few hours and he’d ace it? He’s fucking smart and he should have a degree to prove it!”

Beverly nodded. “There was nothing wrong with you wanting that, Eds, but I do think yelling at him about his decision to leave college to be on stage, to do what he loved the most, wasn’t exactly the best way to go about it. That’s all. But you guys cleared the air in the end, didn’t you? I mean, by then we were all scattered around the continent and we didn’t keep properly in touch like the morons we all obviously are, but I know the two of you made peace.”

“Yeah, we… It took a while but we got past that. And then his first show happened, remember that? And I…”

Beverly gasped. “You missed it! We all went but you…”

“I know, I know… I… I had a plane ticket already booked and all, but my business was just taking off and my partner and I didn’t have the money to hire drivers yet so… When a commission came in I just had to take it. It was an important one, a politician you see, and I couldn’t… My company couldn’t afford to say no. I had to stay, I had to drive that car, Bev! I’m sorry I missed Richie’s show, his first time on a proper stage, but…”

Beverly took Eddie’s hand. “But you didn’t tell him, or any of us, that you wouldn’t be there. We were all expecting to see you, yet your seat remained empty for the whole night and we had the front row. Your absence was felt, and Richie was hurt by it. Why didn’t you call him to explain?”

“I did! I tried but… His phone was off and then I got busy and… I called him as soon as I finished working and I apologized, but he…” Eddie sighed, closing his eyes. “He was drunk, I think, and not in a good mood. We ended up having a fight and then I was too stubborn to call him back the following day. When he didn’t call, either, I… We let time pass and we drifted away.”

“Oh, Eddie…”

“Yeah. My fault. Though he could have let me fucking explain! I’d even booked another flight and planned on going to LA a couple of days later to hang out with him, hoping to make it up to him, but…” Eddie shrugged.

“Couple of idiots.”

Eddie chuckled. “What else is new, right?”

“But wait, if you didn’t go back then… When was the last time you saw Richie?”

***

**Five Years Earlier**

“…so all the bookings for the New York clients are taken care of. But we still have a couple of open spots in LA,” Clark, Eddie’s assistant, said. “There’s a booking for a movie premiere this weekend, and one for a car to take actors back and forth from a press junket site. The latter I thought we could give to Spencer?”

Eddie nodded. “Yes, he’s the best for these kind of drives. Who needs the car for the premiere?”

Clark looked down at his notes. “Richie Tozier,” he read, and Eddie’s eyes widened.

“What… He… Was he the one to book us?”

Clark looked at him funny, and Eddie could feel his cheeks heating. “No, Eddie. Actors never take care of these things. His agency did.”

Waving a hand, Eddie nodded. “Of course. Yes. Well, uhm, you said you didn’t assign a driver for that, right? I… Yes, I’m going to be in LA this weekend so I’m gonna take on the job myself. Write it down, please.”

“You…”

“Is there a problem, Clark?” Eddie glared.

“No, I… Of course not. I’ll… Writing it down now, sir. Have a… uhm… Good trip?”

Eddie nodded, dismissing him. When he was left alone in his office, Eddie groaned and dropped his head on his desk. What had he done? What possessed him to volunteer to drive the limo that would take Richie to his premiere? 

Banging his head a few times against the desk, Eddie tried to decide if the humiliation of having to call his assistant back in and tell him to assign someone else to Richie was worth it, but in the end the little knot in his stomach that formed as soon as he heard Richie’s name, and that Eddie knew wouldn’t go away even if he went back on his decision, won and Eddie resolutely booked a flight to LA.

He had no business there, nothing other than parking a limo in front of Richie’s house and wait for him to show up. Yet, the chance to see him again after so long was too good to pass up and Eddie had to admit he was looking forward to it.

***

Stan was sitting cross-legged on the bed in Bill’s guestroom and looked at Richie’s form, slumped against the door. Slowly, Richie’s knees bent and soon he was sitting on the floor and looking back at Stan.

“What? Say what you want to say, Staniel.”

“Do you want to leave?”

Richie’s mouth opened. “Uhm… wait. That wasn’t what I was expecting you to say…”

“Answer the question, Richie.”

“Why are you pissed at me? I literally did not do anything!”

Stan rolled his eyes. “Just answer me, Rich. Please?”

“No, I don’t wanna go. Happy? I wanna stay. I mean, I think I might still run away at some point, and I’m definitely gonna puke at least once before the weekend is over – so fair warning about that. But…” Richie shrugged. 

“Okay, good. I want to stay here, too. But in order to do that, Tozier, you need to talk to Eddie.”

“Staaaaaaan,” Richie whined.

“No. I don’t want to hear it. Bill and I ran interference for most of the day, and if you wanted to leave I would come with you, but if we’re staying? You’re talking to him.”

“Staaaaaaaaaaaaaaan,” Richie kept whining, more in order to annoy Stan than anything else. It was working, too, so Richie figured he would keep at it.

Stan picked up a pillow and threw it at Richie’s face making him laugh.

“Violence! Biphobia! I feel so oppressed!”

“Beep beep, you piece of shit.”

Richie cackled. 

“Richie,” Stan sighed. “I’m not saying you need to do all the work. Eddie is at fault, too, for what happened five years ago. But this is your chance to clear the air! And besides, he knows about the carving now, so…”

“Yes, and whose fault is that? Remind me again, Urine?”

“My fault. It’s my fault. And Bill’s! Can’t forget Bill started this. But yeah, my fault, and I’m sorry. If it makes you feel any better, I told Patty what happened and I got an earful about it.”

Richie whooped. “Vindication! Pattycakes loves me too much to let this slide. Guess who’s gonna sleep on the couch when he goes home?” Richie pointed at Stan in glee, and laughed at his glare.

“Guess who’s gonna sleep on the floor tonight if he keeps this up,” Stan threatened, pointing at Richie mockingly.

Richie’s eyes sparkled and he made to speak but Stan spoke first.

“Richie, even if you don’t want to tell Eddie everything about the carving and the feelings you had for him then – and still have now – don’t you think it’s time you two confront what happened the night of the premiere? Isn’t five years enough time to mope?”

“Mope? I thought… I really thought he wanted me back, Stan! That night I finally thought we were getting somewhere and then he just comes out and tells me he’s getting married! No,” Richie growled. “Five years is not long enough to get over that.”

*** 

**Five Years Earlier**

“Richie, the car’s here!” 

“Coming,” Richie answered his manager. “Or at least I wish I were… Steve, is there any way I can skip this and actually cum in a different way tonight?”

“Sure. If you want me to dump you,” Steve replied, quirking an eyebrow in a way that made Richie burst out laughing.

“Right, right,” Richie held up his hands and winked. He was wearing a perfectly tailored dark grey suit with a tight fitting, black shirt underneath, and black designer shoes. His normally unruly hair had been styled back and he was wearing contact lenses. “Cannot wait to get out of this armor,” he lamented. “I miss my Hawaiian shirts…”

Steve let out a long-suffering sigh and pushed Richie out the door. “Go. Now. Get in the car. The sooner you walk that red carpet, the sooner you can come back here and do whatever the hell you do when I’m not watching.”

“Ah, yes, my favorite time of day. And night. And afternoon. Sometimes early morning…”

“Richie!”

“I’m going, I’m going. Jeez, Steve. Unclench,” Richie winked and walked out of his house. He punched in the alarm code, waved goodbye to Steve while his manager walked towards his own car, then made his way to the limo that was parked just outside the gate.

“Evening,” Richie greeted the driver as he sat in the backseat. Getting comfortable, he took out his phone and started skimming Twitter. When he realized the car wasn’t moving yet, he looked up. “Are we going? I do think I’m already a bit late.”

“Then you should have been out here on time, dipshit,” the driver snapped, and Richie’s heart skipped a beat.

“Eds?”

Eddie turned around to glare at Richie, but his expression softened as soon as their eyes met. 

“Hi, Richie.”

“Oh my god, Spaghetti! Are you my driver? Did I hire you? Am I paying _you_ to drive _me_ around? Wait, are you kidnapping me?” Richie knew he should stop word-vomiting but he was well aware it wouldn’t happen. Shock, not to mention the absolute pleasure of seeing Eddie for the first time after their fight, were bound not to let Richie shut up anytime soon.

“Why would I kidnap you? Why would anyone want to kidnap you? Hell, I bet whoever tried would soon be paying people to take you back and then surrender gladly to the police!”

Richie laughed. “Awww, Spagheds, you always know how to stroke my ego…”

“Will you stop calling me that?” Eddie rolled his eyes.

“Never gonna happen,” Richie sing-songed. “Wait, can I sit in front?”

“What? No, Richie! You can’t sit there!”

“Why not? I wanna see you drive! And that way we can talk properly!”

“No! Richie, stop… Richie!!” Eddie turned fully around and tried with all his might to block Richie from climbing through the partition so he could sit in front. “You stay back there!"

“I’m the customer,” Richie insisted, laughing, “I’m always right! Plus I’m paying you, this is my limo.”

“This is _not_ your limo, Richie! It belongs to my company. It’s mine, and I say you stay back there!” Eddie’s cheeks were red with the effort of keeping Richie back but also with what Richie was sure was elation at their banter. Richie felt the exact same way.

“Awww, but Eds…”

“No buts! And no Eds!”

“No butts, uh? That’s a bummer…”

“Beep fucking beep, Richie!”

Richie laughed but a knock on his window startled him. He lowered it and was met by Steve’s glare and mildly concerned expression.

“Is everything okay in here?” Steve asked, looking between a flustered Eddie and an amused, if equally flustered, Richie.

“Uhm…” Eddie stuttered.

“Everything’s fine, Steve,” Richie put on his best smile. “We were just about to go. Isn’t that right, Edward?”

Eddie glared darkly at him before turning towards the steering wheel. “Yes, sir,” he said and turned the key in the ignition.

Richie waved goodbye to his manager, pulled up his window, then sat back comfortably. 

“Dude, did you just call me sir? Do it again, it gets me all hot and bothered.”

“I’m gonna kill you, Richie!!!”

“Shit, I missed you, Spaghetti,” Richie breathed out, and saw Eddie grip the steering wheel.

“Missed you, too, Trashmouth.”

And just like that, they were good again.

***

Beverly laughed out loud when Eddie described Richie trying to sit beside Eddie in the limo, and Eddie chuckled along with her.

“Admit it, Eddie, it’s impossible not to love that moron,” Beverly smiled, and Eddie nodded grudgingly, cheeks heating. “So the evening was off to a good start, right? What happened then?”

Eddie sighed. “He told me to wait for him at the back of the theatre while he was walking the red carpet. He said he doesn’t sit and watch his own movies but that he simply poses for pictures, makes nice with the cast and whoever else is there, waves hello to the fans, then books it out of there. So that’s what we did. He did his thing, then came back and I drove him back to his house. He even sat in front for the drive back, the piece of shit!”

Beverly let out a single, amused, “Ha!”

*** 

**Five Years Earlier**

Richie opened the door to his house and invited Eddie in. They stepped inside and Eddie found himself in a large foyer that opened up on a spacious, well-furnished living room with a big window that led to the patio.

“Nice,” Eddie commented.

“Yep, veeeeery nice,” Richie replied, prompting Eddie to look at him. When he did, he saw that Richie was looking up and down at Eddie appreciatively. “Love me a man in uniform.”

Eddie could feel his face burn so he scowled. “Shut up, asshole.”

“No, Eds, I’m not joking! Wow this is really doing it for me. Hey, can I try on the hat?”

Eddie battled Richie’s hands away when he tried to steal his hat. They did a little dance where Eddie tried to side-step Richie’s attempts, and Richie kept trying to pluck the hat off Eddie’s head.

“Will you just stop?” Eddie yelled, hands chopping the air and making Richie double over laughing. “I hate you.”

Richie pouted, and Eddie rolled his eyes. 

“Make yourself at home, Spaghetti,” Richie invited, then. “I’m gonna get out of this death trap my manager calls a suit.”

“Oh, you don’t have to,” Eddie spoke without thinking, and blinked when Richie turned to look at him quizzically. “I mean, uh… You… Well, you look… uhm… Good?”

“Good? Is that a question or a compliment?” Richie’s sarcasm was belied by the deep red of his cheeks, so Eddie refused to answer him. He shrugged and simply marched towards the couch and sat down. 

He could see Richie looking at him for a moment, expression unreadable, but then his friend simply ran up the stairs. 

Alone, Eddie took off his hat and the jacket of his uniform and studied the room. He was sure an interior designer was responsible for the furniture and the general feel of the room, but Richie’s own input was visible throughout, and Eddie laughed when he saw an arcade videogame taking up space in a corner of the room. He walked towards the machine and smiled fondly when he recognized Street Fighter.

“Ah, Richie…” Eddie sighed.

“Yeeees?”

Eddie whirled around, caught, then his mouth opened when he took in the state of Richie.

He had mussed his hair and worn his glasses, and the suit had been substituted with a well-worn T-shirt that depicted two Minions showing their asses, and soft grey sweatpants. Richie was barefoot, and Eddie’s breath hitched.

“Wanna play?” Richie grinned, wriggling his eyebrows.

“Nope,” Eddie shook his head and made his way back to the couch. “I’m an adult, you see?”

“Are you? I don’t know, Eds, you’re so small… How can you tell?”

“I’m 5’9’’, asshole! Not all of us can be freak of natures! I’m average height!”

“Where? In Mexico, maybe?”

“Beep… You… Fuck you, Richie!”

Richie laughed. “Whew, calm down, tiger. Wanna drink?”

“Can I throw it in your face?”

“Is that a kink?”

Eddie sighed. “Yes. Got it from your sister.”

Richie’s eyes gleamed. “Eds gets off a good one!” He joked while opening a bottle of champagne, and filling two glasses.

“Champagne?” Eddie remarked taking the glass Richie served him.

“Gift. Premiere and all.”

Eddie nodded. “Why didn’t you sit in the premiere tonight?”

“Told you, I don’t watch my movies.”

“But, wait… never? I thought it was just in a theatre because of, you know, people and…”

Richie grinned. “Not all of us are afraid of people’s germs, Eds…”

“Shut up, asshole! I didn’t mean that. I was talking about the live reaction and all. Might be nerve-wracking sitting among strangers and waiting to see if they like your performance.”

Richie nodded. “There is that, yes. But also, it’s me. I don’t like watching myself. I dissect my performance, I’m never happy with it, I don’t like my voice, and my face… ugh.”

“Ugh?” Eddie gaped. “What the fuck do you mean, ugh? Are you kidding me? You’re… Wait, is this you fishing for compliments?” Eddie looked at Richie suspiciously.

“From you? I’d have better luck going to bed with your mom and expecting a good night’s sleep!”

Eddie punched Richie’s thigh. “Beep beep! Will you stop it with the mom jokes already? And I’m trying to be serious here, Rich! What’s wrong with your face, it’s a good face, it’s _your_ face! It’s expressive, it’s nice to look at…” Eddie blushed when he saw Richie mouth, ‘nice to look at?’ but didn’t stop talking. 

“And you’re talented. I understand being self-conscious and uncomfortable watching yourself act, but I can’t believe you would skip your own movies because you think you don’t look or sound good in them. Rich! You’re good, alright?”

Richie’s mouth opened and closed a few times, and Eddie decided it would be a great idea to drown himself in champagne. He picked up the bottle that Richie brought with him to the couch and refilled his glass. He took a drink and looked down at the carpet.

“I’m… Uhm…” Richie stuttered. “I mean… Thank you?”

Eddie nodded but refused to look back at Richie.

“Anyway, uhm, this movie, the one I walked the red carpet for tonight? I have a supporting role so I’m not in too many scenes. I’m… uh… I play a lawyer? I come in towards the middle of the movie and defend the main character who, as it turns out, is a serial killer,” Richie explained, and Eddie was sure his friend was just nervously talking to fill the void.

“Oh, _Red Evidence_? That was the movie tonight?” Eddie asked, finally looking at Richie who nodded. “I’ve wanted to see that one. Saw the trailer and…”

“You saw the trailer?” Richie asked in a whisper, and Eddie felt a hair’s breadth away from running head first towards the window and jumping out. Why couldn’t he keep his mouth shut?

“Uhm.. yeah? I like, uhm… Hugh Dancy? Your co-star, he plays the serial killer? You’re just an added bonus, really,” Eddie shrugged, pretending he cared about anything else but Richie.

“Well, as long as I’m a _bonus_ of some sort,” Richie joked, and Eddie stuck his tongue out at him. “Shoulda told me, Eds. I would have introduced you to Hugh. He was there tonight with Claire, his wife; Claire Danes? They’re gorgeous together and I looked like an idiot posing with them.”

“Will you stop saying that? You looked just as good in that suit, Richie!!”

“I… did?”

Instead of answering, Eddie downed the rest of his glass and refilled it again. He refilled Richie’s too and realized the bottle was almost empty. 

“Shit. I shouldn’t have drank this much… Still need to drive the limo back…”

“You can stay here. If you want, I mean,” Richie offered, earnest, and Eddie felt the insane urge to kiss him. What the fuck was wrong with him? Okay, it wasn’t the first time Eddie ever wanted to kiss Richie but he’d thought he was over it now. He’d guessed the old ‘out of sight, out of mind’ saying was right, and not seeing Richie at all since the fight for the missed show had cured Eddie of that weird obsession with one of his best friends. Obviously, he’d been wrong.

Eddie glared at his glass of champagne like he blamed it for all his troubles, but had to look back at Richie when he called his name.

“Eds? Did you hear…”

“Yes, I… Yes, I heard. Thank you, Richie. I just… I don’t know if I can. The limo needs to be back in the garage for polishing and maintenance as soon as the job is done. Company policy. My policy.”

“Your company, your rules,” Richie shrugged. “Come on, Spagheds. Live a little! Let’s break the rules.”

Eddie laughed when Richie nodded his head with a wicked grin and wriggled his eyebrows. He laughed so much that at some point, in his drunken state, he tilted towards Richie and found himself basically leaning against him.

Richie’s breath audibly catching in his throat killed Eddie’s laugh, and he looked up at him from his position with his head on Richie’s shoulder.

“Eds?”

“Hmm?”

“I…” Richie leaned forward and for a blissful second Eddie closed his eyes.

*** 

“Richie, from everything you told me, I don’t think you were wrong! I think Eddie _did_ want you to kiss him but…”

“But what? Uh? What, Stan? He suddenly remembered he was engaged? To a woman? So what, he pretended she didn’t exist until then only to whip her out when I was about to lay one on him? What exactly are you objecting to here, Stanley?”

Stan sighed. “I don’t know! Okay? That is why I’ve been telling you to talk to Eddie for five fucking years!”

Richie jumped up, grimacing when his knee twinged. “He was married for most of them, Stan! He went and married her! Isn’t that pretty self-explanatory? I tried to kiss him and he married someone else!”

“Richie… Did he look happy?”

“What?”

“When he stopped you, or pulled back, or whatever, to tell you about his engagement, did he look happy? Did he look like he wanted to?”

Richie’s eyes widened. He found he didn’t have an answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoiler alert: Nope, Eddie didn't want to stop nor he was happy he had to. You'll see what I mean next time, when we'll find out what else happened That Night ;)
> 
> I do hope the cuts between present times and flashbacks weren't too confusing, and that the shifting POV also made sense.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	7. Remember That Night Part II

**Five Years Earlier**

Richie was about to kiss him and Eddie was going to let it happen.

With his head still on Richie’s shoulder Eddie looked up at him, vision blurring the closer Richie got. Their breaths were labored and Richie’s face was flushed – Eddie was sure his own had to be just as tinted. Richie angled his head and so did Eddie, and their lips got closer and closer.

It was a dream come true. It was what Eddie had wanted for as long as he could remember. Richie was about to kiss him, and Eddie couldn’t wait to feel his lips on his own. 

Eddie’s feelings for Richie had always been complicated. He realized from a very early age that he both craved and dreaded Richie’s attention. Every time Richie focused on him, Eddie felt alive; he felt seen, he felt powerful and invincible. He was at the center of Richie’s world just as Richie was at the center of his own, and together they shone brightly. Yet, feeding off Richie’s attention was scary too, because Eddie couldn’t explain why being the butt of Richie’s jokes or being teased so much he should have felt close to tears made him instead feel like the world was right and he existed only to shout back in Richie’s face and watch him grin. Why was that? Twelve years old Eddie was unable to give himself an answer, and the lack of knowledge and control over the situation left him uneasy and untethered.

All of that, of course, only resulted in Eddie clinging even harder to Richie because _he_ was Eddie’s tether, his anchor, the only thing that made sense… while being completely nonsensical. And thus the circle begun again.

Growing up, Eddie understood himself and his reactions better but that scared him even more and forced him to hide his emotions. Or better yet to allow Richie and the others to see only the side of him he could show: His insults, his rage, his exasperation. Each time Richie invented a new nickname for Eddie, he instantly complained, loudly and vehemently, because it was easier than to let his pleasure and elation show. When Richie did something incredibly stupid in order to get a reaction out of Eddie, he yelled and grumbled, trying with all his might to ignore the little voice that said, “He did this for you! He wants you to look at him! He wants _you_!” and that sent shivers down his spine.

But Eddie wanted. Oh, how he wanted. When Richie came out as bisexual, Eddie had to physically stop himself from calling him and offering himself on a gold platter. He hadn’t even truly accepted his own sexuality back then, but Eddie was ready to throw himself at Richie’s feet, hesitation be damned for once. Obviously, he hadn’t done that. He’d simply texted Richie that he was proud of him and glad Richie felt like he could confide in him and the Losers, and then went out and got blindly drunk. Repression offered, as always, a fantastic escape route.

Yet, here Eddie was now. On Richie’s couch, in his house, with his head swirling with thoughts, emotions, and the heady sensation of the champagne he’d drunk. Here Eddie was, about to be kissed by the man he’d loved since he was a kid.

Did this mean Richie felt the same? Was he about to kiss Eddie because he too wanted to fulfil a lifelong dream? Or was it just the effect of the night, the reconciliation, and the drinking?

With Richie’s lips incredibly close to his own, so close that Eddie could feel their warmth, so close that Richie’s breath caressed his cheek now, Eddie found he didn’t care. Whatever the reason, they would be kissing in a mere second.

Eddie had never wanted anything more and he couldn’t remember ever feeling like this before – the anticipation, the elevated heartbeat, the trembling of his limbs. All because of Richie. He’d waited for this for so long and no kiss had ever meant this much to him.

Not the first one, fumbling and embarrassed in the back of Jenny Dawson’s car; not the one he finally allowed himself to accept from Jonathan Grey in college; certainly not any of the kisses he’d exchanged with Myra…

A lightning bolt hit Eddie and he gasped, reeling back. He could see Richie’s eyes widening in shock and surprise – and was that terror, too? – but all Eddie could do was jump up and take a few steps back from the couch.

“Engaged!” He yelled, and Richie gaped.

“Uhm… Sorry, what?”

Eddie passed a trembling hand through his hair and tried to steady his breathing. How could he have forgotten Myra? How could he have let Richie get so close to kissing him when that would mean cheating? If there was one thing Eddie could not abide or forgive, that was cheating. Be it on a test or on a partner, cheating was contemptible, hurtful, and painfully unjust.

Kissing Richie would hurt Myra, it would go against everything Eddie believed and, most importantly, it would be deeply unfair to _Richie_. How could Eddie let himself be kissed if he wasn’t free to actually be with Richie? If Richie ever kissed him, Eddie wanted it to mean something, to be the start of something, and that couldn’t be unless he talked to Myra first and broke things off.

“Eds? What… Uhm… Would you mind explaining what you meant by engaged? Because, ehm…” Richie let out a small laugh that Eddie hated because it was so evidently false and forced. “It was just a kiss… Wasn’t expecting you to put a ring on it!”

Eddie grimaced. “No, Rich, I… It’s just that… I have a… I have a… Myra…”

“You have a what now? What’s a Myra?”

“She’s my fiancée,” Eddie whispered, and watched Richie’s face abruptly close off. Eddie hated it and tried to speak again, to explain, but Richie got up off the couch and towered over him.

“Well, well, well, Spaghetti. I do believe congratulations are in order, then. Should I open another bottle? So we can toast to the new Mrs. K? Even if, of course, _Myra_ could never hold a candle to the one and only original Mrs K! The woman who stole my heart, not to mention my innocence, and taught me everything I know!” Richie grinned, but it was far from a teasing, good-natured ribbing. 

The way he said Myra’s name was so full of pain that it stabbed Eddie through the heart, and the joke about his mother was nothing like the usual, easy way Richie used to throw out to get Eddie to explode. It was almost mean, and Eddie felt cold all over. 

Upset, pained, and forcefully shocked out of his drunkenness, Eddie couldn’t even find it in himself to reply at first. When he finally tried, it didn’t go over well.

“Richie, no… Wait… That’s not what I…”

Richie turned his back to Eddie. “I think you should leave,” he said, coldly.

“No, Rich, let me talk. Please!”

“Talk about what? I believe we said all there was to say.”

“No we didn’t! I didn’t! You were about to fucking kiss me! How could I let you do that, Richie? How? Don’t you understand? Don’t you know?” Eddie pleaded.

When Richie turned around and looked at him, Eddie paled.

“It was a mistake. _My_ mistake. Call it nostalgia, call it leftover euphoria after the premiere, call it shock at seeing you after so much time. It was stupid, _I_ was stupid. That’s what I am, right? Idiot Richie, always acting before thinking. What was it that Stan used to say? _Thinking before acting is wisdom, acting before thinking is regret_ ,” Richie quoted, imitating Stan’s solemn voice perfectly. “I deeply regret trying to kiss you against your will. Please accept my most sincere apologies and get the _fuck_ out of my house.”

Eddie reeled back as if struck. “Richie…”

Richie shook his head, turned, and made his way to the stairs. He started his climb, then turned and addressed Eddie over his own shoulder.

“See yourself out,” he reiterated, then ran upstairs.

Dejected, pained, and completely unable to think of anything to say that could remedy the situation – especially since it didn’t look like Richie was even interested in hearing him out – Eddie picked up his jacket and hat, and left Richie’s house.

*** 

Sitting on the sofa in Bill’s living room, Eddie closed his eyes. “So that’s what I did, Bev. I left. I went back to New York, buried myself in work, tried not to think about anything else but my company… And married Myra three months later. Biggest mistake of my life but,” he shrugged. “Didn’t have anything else left to do. Nothing left to lose. And I cared for Myra, she was… Safe. I knew where I stood with her. I knew who I was. I didn’t like it – in fact, I hated who she allowed me to be and how she enabled all my neurosis – but at least I had some sort of control.”

“Oh, Eds,” Beverly pulled Eddie’s unresisting body against her own and held him. “Why didn’t you try to talk to Richie again?”

“He didn’t want…”

“Eddie. Come on. So he didn’t want to listen, but when has that ever stopped you? You used to place yourself in front of him and flat out refuse to move until he listened! Remember that fight you guys had in high school? When Richie thought you were blowing him off every time he asked you to sit and watch him rehearse the play for drama class, and instead you were just trying not to let your mom get too suspicious with you coming home late every Tuesday and Friday, so that you could actually be sure not to miss both the dress rehearsal and the night of the play? He refused to even look at you for a week! He didn’t want to hear your explanations but you pushed him down on that bench and yelled in his face until he finally understood, and he apologized to you! That was epic, Eds!” Beverly laughed, and Eddie chuckled with her.

“Yeah… but this was different, Bev,” he sighed.

“No, it wasn’t. There was just more at stake but that was all the more reason for you to try. Hell, if he refused to answer when you called, or didn’t read your texts, you could have written him a letter! You could have gone back to his place and refused to leave until he listened. Or, wild thought, you could have called me and I’d have kicked Richie’s ass until he stopped being such an idiot!”

Eddie leaned back away from Bev and shrugged. “Maybe. But I didn’t. And he never talked to me again after that. So I married Myra, divorced her three years later, and now here we are. Richie doesn’t even want to talk to me about something that may or may not be true, and apparently he doesn’t even think I’m entitled to an explanation. I’m not even allowed to ask him questions, Bev… You’ve seen how quickly Stan marched in here and took Richie away. And you guys all played your part in keeping us separate for the whole day today. So maybe there was something I could do then, but now? He doesn’t even want to talk to me…”

Beverly sighed. “Eddie, be honest with me. Do you really need Richie to confirm or deny about the carving? Do you honestly need him to sit down and tell you the truth about that? Do you really not know? Wasn’t Stan’s comment the other night enough for you? Because, let me tell you, it was for me!”

“Do you remember when I told you I thought I might be gay, Bev? I was still married to Myra and we hadn’t heard from one another for a couple of years back then,” Eddie asked.

Beverly nodded. “Yes, of course. I gave you hell for getting married without inviting all of us to the wedding as soon as I answered the phone.”

Eddie grinned. “You did. But then again, I suppose now you know why I didn’t really feel like celebrating with my closest friends,” Beverly took Eddie’s hand, and he smiled at her. “I told you, during that phone call, that I wasn’t in love with my wife, had probably never been, and the reason for that was that I was finally accepting my own homosexuality. I also asked, remember that? I asked you if you’d ever realized, and you told me that you could never know something until I told you. Do you remember?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Right, so how can I know whether Richie truly carved our initials on the Kissing Bridge until _he_ tells me? Maybe I suspect, maybe what Stan said was enough, but why should I say I know for sure? And also, how can I understand why he did it if I don’t ask? Am I not allowed to want him to answer my questions? Do I really not deserve anything?”

“You deserve the world, Eds,” Beverly pledged. “And so does Richie. I’m just suggesting a change in approach. Maybe stop trying to get him to admit to the carving and just… I don’t know, ask him if you two can talk. Without demanding answers he might not know how to give, you see? Just sit him down and clear the air.”

“Do you think he wants that, Bev?”

“I know he does.”

The sound of the door opening startled them but they relaxed again when they saw Bill and Mike poke their heads in.

“Can we come in?”

“It’s your house, Bill,” Eddie answered.

Bill smiled as he and Mike entered the room.

“So,” Mike said, smiling. “How do you feel about ordering take-out? We were thinking… Chinese?”

*

“Tell me again,” Richie asked. “What should I do, Stan?”

“Just talk to him! I know that if the two of you just put aside your own hurt, your own need to be right, and just talk things through everything will get better. I don’t know if there can be more between the two of you, I have my own suspicions but I can’t know if I’m right. Still, if you stop avoiding this, Rich, and just let Eddie in again I’m sure you can at least get him back in your life as a friend. I know you miss that, I know you miss him. Stop fighting this!”

“I honestly feel so attacked right now,” Richie affected a nasal, teenage Voice that had Stan roll his eyes. Richie sighed. “Talk to him, uh?”

“Like I’ve been telling you to do for years. Years, Richie.”

“He could have talked to me too, you know?”

“You told him to get the fuck out!”

“What did you want me to say, Stan? He’d just ripped my heart right out of my chest! I only barely made it upstairs to the bathroom before I puked out everything I’d eaten since the Christmas dinner of 1992!”

Stan grimaced. “That is so disgusting, I don’t even…”

“Hmm,” Richie grinned. “That 1992 pot roast flavor…”

“Richie, I swear…”

“Oh yes, please, Staniel! Do swear. Gets me hot under the collar. Call me names,” Richie winked, then laughed when Stan threw another pillow at him.

“I will strangle you in your sleep,” Stan glared.

“So kinky, Franken-Staniel,” Richie joked, and Stan had to bite his lip not to laugh at the stupid nickname.

“Are you going to talk to Eddie, Rich?”

Richie closed his eyes, smile leaving his face, and slowly nodded.

A knock on the door interrupted whatever Richie wanted to say and he turned around to open it.

“Hey guys,” Ben smiled. “Sorry to interrupt but it’s close to dinnertime and we were thinking of ordering out. You in?”

Stan got up off the bed and moved to stand beside Richie. He picked up the pillows he’d thrown earlier and put them back on the bed. “Yeah, I could eat.” He said then. “Anything in particular you’d decided on?”

Ben shifted from foot to foot. “Yeah, uhm, Bill, Mike, and I thought it would be nice to… Uhm… Get some Chinese food?”

Stan’s eyes widened and he looked at Richie.

“You guys are fucked up,” Richie accused. “And if I see a single fortune cookie, I’m out of here!”

*

Despite the fact that the Losers still felt they had to play chaperones between Eddie and Richie, dinner was a complete success. Richie flat out refused to let anyone order fortune cookies – and he was backed up by both Beverly and Eddie – but Bill and Mike thought it would be a good idea to hide a small piece of paper with a single word written on it under everybody’s plate.

At first it looked like the good-natured prank wouldn’t go over well, and the atmosphere got so thick it almost became visible to the human eye. But then Stan joked about the fact that at least this time he was included in the joke instead of being the punchline, and everyone relaxed.

They put the seven little, one-worded notes together in the center of the table and re-arranged them until they spelled:

_Be proud of who you are, Losers_

Everybody smiled, and Mike took a picture of the message and promised to get it printed and sent to the others.

When it was time to clear the table, Eddie and Richie finally found themselves alone in the room. They were standing at opposite sides of the table and, when Richie looked up, he found Eddie looking back at him.

“I promise you this is the last time I’ll ask,” Eddie said, subdued. 

“Ask what, Eds?”

“Can we talk, Richie? Please?”

Richie closed his eyes without replying but he opened them up again when he heard Eddie sigh, dejectedly.

“Okay, I… I understand, Richie. I won’t bother you again,” Eddie said, and moved towards the door.

When he passed Richie, the latter grabbed his wrist and stopped him from leaving.

“If it’s okay with you,” Richie said. “I was thinking I could come to your room later, after everyone’s gone to bed. We could… Talk then? If… uhm… Only if you want to. I mean, if you’d rather do it earlier and not in your… well… If you want we can go to Bill’s study right now. Yeah, I guess that’d be better. So… uhm…”

“Rich,” Eddie interrupted with a small smile. “Later tonight in my room is fine. Less chance to be interrupted or, you know, overheard…”

Richie smiled back. “Like you can’t picture all the Losers with their ears glued to the door trying to listen in?”

Eddie laughed.

When Mike and Ben got back into the dining room, Richie let go of Eddie’s wrist and mouthed, ‘Later,’ to him. Eddie nodded.

“Hey, Losers!” Bill called. “Wanna watch a movie or three before bed?”

They all agreed and, while they argued about what they wanted to watch – and finally settled on the _Back to the Future_ trilogy – both Stan and Beverly picked up on the strange vibe between Richie and Eddie. They both hoped their friends would finally be able to explain themselves and heal each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time they're finally gonna talk! Only three chapters to go so we're getting to the juicy part ;)
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!


	8. R Plus E

Later that night, the Losers made a show of going to their own rooms and firmly closing the doors behind themselves, and Stan giggled.

“Ah, we are all so subtle,” he joked, patting Richie on the back before retiring, too.

Eddie shook his head, opened the door of the room Bill assigned him, and invited Richie in. The room was small, with a single bed, a built-in closet, a table with a chair, and a small window that looked out on the main road.

Self-conscious and unwilling to sit on the bed, Richie made his way towards the table and sat on the chair in front of it. Eddie toed off his shoes and sat cross-legged at the end of the bed.

“So,” Richie started. “I bet you’re wondering why I’ve gathered you all here tonight…”

Eddie let out a small, huffing laugh. “Shut up,” he said.

“Thought you wanted me to talk, Spagheds. Isn’t that why I’ve been summoned here?”

“Summoned? Are you… Wait, you invited yourself in, asshole! And what the hell does ‘summoned’ mean? Are you a demon now?”

Richie’s eyes sparkled. “I am,” he said, using a Voice straight out of _The Exorcist_. “I’m here to eat you, one noodle at a time…”

Eddie blushed a bit. “Richie…”

“Yeah, okay. Sorry. You… You said you wanted to talk?” Richie motioned for Eddie to speak.

Nodding resolutely, Eddie took a deep breath. “First of all, Rich, uhm… Can I ask… You and Sandy Coleman… Well…”

“We’re just friends, Eddie. I’m not sure why you need to hear this but, yeah, I’m single.”

“Me too,” Eddie whispered, so softly that Richie couldn’t hear.

“Hmm?”

“Nothing, I… Richie, I wanted to apologize.”

Visibly surprised, Richie could do nothing else but stare at Eddie with wide eyes. “Apologize? I… For what?”

“So much,” Eddie commiserated. “I could start with me missing your first show…”

“Come on, Eds. That was ages ago! Almost a different lifetime. And it sucked that you were a no show, I won’t lie, but…” Richie shrugged.

“I had to work! Last minute booking and no one else could do the drive! I wanted to be there, Richie, and I’m sorry I missed it. I tried to call but… And afterwards I wanted to come see you that same weekend but you… You didn’t…”

Richie closed his eyes. “So what you’re saying is that I’m the one who should apologize to you. I never let you explain why you didn’t come, did I? I just… Assumed you…”

“I don’t want you to apologize, Richie, you were hurt! I hurt you! I… Sorry?”

Richie looked at Eddie and smiled. “I’ll accept your apology if you accept mine.”

“Done,” Eddie smiled back. “But then that night… The night of the premiere…”

“Yeah, that. Sorry I threw you out of the house…”

“Rich, no… It was me. Again. I fucked up. I fucked up so badly, and I didn’t know how to fix it. I should’ve taken a page out of my own book and stood in your way yelling until you were forced to either listen to me or call the police.”

Richie laughed at the image Eddie’s words depicted. “You were always a little spitfire, Eds. A bulldozer with a one-track mind who, once he’d found his target, would relentlessly go at it until he won. Ignoring you simply wasn’t possible.”

“You managed pretty well,” Eddie lamented. “For five years.”

“Yes, well, it’s not like you were bulldozing your way through to get to me, is it? If I ignored you, Eddie, maybe it was in response to what you were doing to me!”

“I wasn’t ignoring you!”

“Could’ve fooled me!”

“What the fuck, Richie! You didn’t want to hear from me. I was respecting your wishes! I fucked up, badly, and I was trying not to force my presence on you when you clearly didn’t want anything to do with me. And, uhm…” Eddie took a calming breath and released it. “I felt guilty, too. I let my own guilt, and pain, stop me from getting to you like I should have. But ignoring you, Rich? Did you forget I was able to quote from your interviews the other night? Why do you think that is?”

Richie blushed. “Uhm…” He shook his head. “I don’t know. Are we discussing your shitty taste in actors now? Can’t help you there, dude. There’s so many talented people you could read about in your spare time, no idea why you’d waste time on a hack like me.”

“I’m gonna kill you, Richie! I will literally get up off this bed, come there, and strangle you!”

“You and Stanley should start a club. The ‘Let’s find creative ways to kill Richie Tozier’ club. Hey, can I join?” 

Eddie sighed. “I’m sure it’d end up being a very large club, but then again both Stan and I would probably have to murder everyone who even looks at you funny so that would get old fast.”

Richie gaped. “Uh… what do you mean?”

“Richie. You are _not_ a hack. You’re talented, so fucking talented you can successfully play a desperately closeted gay man embarking on a journey of self-discovery and make everyone cry at the end, and then turn around and play Santa Claus’s younger brother who steals the sleigh and crashes it three days before Christmas. I laughed so hard at that movie, Rich, that the guy sitting beside me in the theatre had to ask me to keep it down. You’re fucking talented, ok? There’s no other actor I’d rather read about because there’s no other actor that can make me feel like I’m dying with one performance and then give me life with the next. You understand that, Richie?”

Eddie glared at Richie throughout the whole speech and only softened when he could see Richie’s eyes watering behind his glasses.

“You’re good, man. You’re fucking good. I even had to go see that stupid Minions movie because I heard you were voicing a couple of characters! I recognized your voice every time, by the way.”

“Yeah? You… Uhm… You did?”

Eddie nodded. “I wasn’t ignoring you, Richie. I just felt… I was ashamed, and hurt, and I hated that you were also hurting. That I was the reason why you were hurting. So letting time pass, not doing anything, seemed safer than confronting all of that. I’m a coward, you know that…”

Richie shook his head, vehemently. “No, you’re not! You’re not, Eds. You’re the bravest little fucker I know!”

“Not little, dickhead.”

Richie grinned. “Compact,” he said, and giggled at Eddie’s scowl. “Portable? No? How about fun sized?”

“That’s porn, Richie!!”

Richie nodded, winking. He cocked his head and got serious again. “You’re brave, Eds. Look at what you did here. I would have kept running away and hiding behind Stan the whole weekend, but you… You demanded we talked and I just had to give in.”

Eddie smiled softly. “So can we talk, Richie? Properly and honestly? Please?”

“I don’t know if I can promise you not to try and derail the conversation,” Richie confessed. “But… Yeah, we can talk. You can… ask, if you want.”

“I won’t ask, Richie. I’ll wait for you to tell me, okay? Tell me what you want, when you want. I just want you to listen now. Will you?”

Eddie looked at Richie with wide, earnest eyes and Richie could only nod.

“You have my complete attention, Spaghetti,” he said, smiling.

Eddie rolled his eyes but nodded. “That is what got me into this mess, to be fair.”

“What did? My attention?”

“Yeah. And my need for it. My need for you to look at me, talk to me, be impressed by me…” Eddie looked at his knees.

“Impressed… Eddie? I was always… You were… Uhm…”

Looking back at Richie, Eddie shrugged. “The shower caps are a good example.”

“Sorry, did you say shower caps?” Richie was bewildered.

“Yeah, in the clubhouse? For spiders? Stan had one for each of us, remember? Bill described the whole scene in his book, too. The characters needed tokens for that idiotic ritual he invented, and by then _Samuel_ , Stan’s character, was dead so the others needed to find his token by themselves. _Barry_ , the character Bill based on himself, found the box with the shower caps, and then the book takes us back to the Summer of 1989. In the flashback, we see what actually happened to us back then, the day Stan gave us the shower caps,” Eddie paused and waited to see if Richie wanted to say something.

“I’m not entirely sure where you’re going with this but sure, yeah, I remember,” Richie shrugged, puzzled but also visibly intrigued.

“You were the last one to be offered a shower cap but you scoffed at it because, you said, no one was afraid of spiders. And then you looked at the rest of us and we were all wearing one. You… Uhm… You looked at _me_ , with the stupid shower cap on my head, and I immediately took it off because… Because you weren’t wearing one and I wanted you to see I could also go without. That I could be as cool as you, and that you could have a reason to be impressed by me. But you didn’t look impressed, not at all. You went back to your comic book and ignored me so I… I just…” Eddie trailed off.

“You had to sit in the hammock with me…” Richie recalled, fondly.

Eddie blushed. “You were hogging it, anyway.”

“I don’t recall any sign saying I had to give it up…”

“For fuck’s sake, Richie! There was a verbal agreement! Ten minutes each! How many times…”

Richie laughed at Eddie’s old, outraged protest and soon Eddie joined him.

“Shithead,” Eddie shook his head. 

“There might have been another reason why I was always in the hammock… Or at least, there was after the first time you jumped in, too,” Richie confessed, quietly.

Eddie nodded. “Maybe it was the same reason why I sat in it with you…” Richie looked at him intently, and Eddie had to look away. “Your attention…”

“You had it, Eds. You always had it. I don’t know that I ever paid attention to anything or anyone else the whole time you were around. And I went out of my way to get _your_ attention, too, you know? Didn’t you ever notice?”

“I noticed,” Eddie declared. “I just didn’t know if you wanted it like I did or if you just enjoyed our banter so much that you had to keep it going any way you could.”

Richie sighed. “I’m not sure I understand where you’re going with this, Eds, and I don’t know how you intend for me to take your wish for my attention but… Uhm… You know what? Fuck it, okay? I’m just gonna say it and if it’s not what you want to hear then I guess I’ll just have to deal with that. I did it, alright? I carved our initials on the Kissing Bridge, just like Stan said, just like Bill wrote in that fucking book of his. Does that tell you anything about the reason why I was constantly looking for your attention? Do you understand what I’m saying here, Eddie?”

“I wanted to kiss you!” Eddie yelled, then clapped a hand on his mouth, shocked.

Richie leaned back on the chair, mouth hanging open and hands opening and closing on his lap almost as if he’d lost any sort of control on them. 

“You… You wanted… In the… In the clubhouse, you mean? When did you… Uh… Eddie?”

“In the clubhouse, in the schoolyard, down at the quarry, in my bedroom when you climbed in at every hour of the night… In your house the night of the premiere… All the time, I think,” Eddie said, voice so low that Richie had to lean forward to hear him.

“But… But you… You didn’t… And when I tried, you stopped me. You told me you were engaged, to a _woman_ … and then you married her!”  


“I can’t cheat. I don’t cheat, Richie! You know that, you’ve always known. I. Don’t. Cheat. I couldn’t let you kiss me when I was engaged to Myra! I just… I had to break up with her first. How could I do that to her, or to _you_? I had to stop you, Richie… I had to stop myself, too. But I didn’t want to, I swear,” Eddie looked right at Richie, expression pleading and willing him to believe his words. “I didn’t want to stop, I wanted you to kiss me. I just… Richie…”

Richie’s breathing became labored and he had to stand up. He paced back and forth for a while, stopped, fiddled nervously with his glasses, and finally went to the window and leaned against it, placing both hands on the frame.

“Rich?”

“Just… I just need…” Richie shook his head.

Eddie also stood up and tentatively placed a hand on Richie’s back. He could feel how tense he was, so Eddie moved his hand up and down in a gentle caress meant to soothe and help Richie relax.

They stood like that for a few long moments and then Richie spoke again.

“But you married her,” he said, voice strangled.

“I made a mistake,” Eddie admitted. “I hid behind her and I used her. Used her as a shield so that I wouldn’t have to face hard truths about myself, so that I could continue being in control and live a life I knew well. It was a life I hated, but it was also the only one I knew.”

“What truths were you…” 

“Will you look at me? Only if you can, of course, but…” Eddie asked. 

Richie turned slowly but Eddie refused to lose contact with him: When Richie was finally facing him again, pain and uncertainty shining in his eyes, Eddie’s hand was still on him but now it was placed at the center of his chest. Eddie grabbed a fistful of Richie’s sweater and breathed.

“I’m gay, Richie,” he revealed. “And I’m in love with my best friend. You. I’ve been in love with you all my life, and yet all I’ve been able to do was hurt you and make you think you were disposable. You’re not. I… I missed you every day. I wanted you every day. Richie, I…”

Richie closed the distance between them and kissed Eddie. With one hand still trapped between their bodies, Eddie wrapped the other at the back of Richie’s neck to keep him in place. Richie moaned and deepened the kiss, holding onto Eddie for dear life.

“Eddie…” Richie whispered on Eddie’s lips, before kissing him again. He angled Eddie’s head and slipped his tongue in his mouth. Eddie sucked on it, moaning, and finally released Richie’s sweater so he could hug him better.

When they had to come up for breath, they did so without moving away from each other. They breathed in each other’s mouths, both still open and glistening, a trail of saliva connecting them, and soon they were kissing again.

“Richie, wait…” Eddie said after a while, breaking the kiss. “We need… to talk… We…”

“No,” Richie breathed. “No talking. Just kiss me, Eddie. Been waiting for so long…”

“Me too,” Eddie confessed, peppering Richie’s lips with small kisses and then allowing Richie to re-capture his mouth in a deeper one once more. “But… I need… Please, Rich…”

Richie groaned and released Eddie, but when he made to step back Eddie grabbed him and refused to let him go too far.

“Stay,” he pleaded. “I didn’t mean… Come on.” 

Eddie took Richie’s hand and guided him towards the bed. He gestured for Richie to get on the bed and sit against the headboard, then Eddie lay on his side in between Richie’s legs so that he could place his head on Richie’s shoulder and look up at him. Richie held him with an arm around Eddie’s back, and gripped his forearm with the other hand.

“I love you,” Eddie reiterated, and Richie’s eyes filled with tears. “Hey, no… Rich, come on, don’t…”

“I can’t help it, Eds! You… I love you, too. So much. Since forever. I just… I can’t really remember living one single day of my life not loving you. And I never thought… Never in a million years could I have imagined that you would feel the same,” Richie closed his eyes and only re-opened them when he felt Eddie place a tiny kiss on his jawline. “For a moment, that night at my house I thought… But then you spoke of Myra and…”

“I’m so sorry, Richie. I messed things up, and then I got so scared that I couldn’t explain myself. I should have stayed, I should have forced you to listen… And I should never have married her. Forgive me, Rich…”

Richie held him tight, and kissed Eddie’s forehead. “It’s done. It’s all in the past and now I… I have you. Right? Do I… Are you…”

“All yours, Richie. If you want me, I’m all yours,” Eddie pledged.

“ _If_ I want you? There is nothing in the entire world I want more than you, Eddie,” Richie declared, and this time it was Eddie’s turn to shed some tears. “I want you so badly, Eds... Say I can have you. Say it again. Please…”

“You can have me any way you want me, Richie,” Eddie whispered, and Richie whimpered.

Taking Eddie’s chin in his hand, Richie raised his face so that he could kiss him again. Eddie allowed him to explore his mouth as much and as long as he wanted, and groaned when he could feel Richie’s other hand move down and grip his ass.

They were both half hard inside their pants but Eddie knew he couldn’t let this go any further.

“Wait, Richie…” Richie whined, and Eddie let out a small laugh. “I know… I want to, I promise. But not… Not here, in Bill’s guest room, with the other Losers all around us! Did you see these walls? Paper thin! We can’t do this here!”

Richie’s eyes sparkled. “Why not, come on! Let’s put on a show!” He joked, and then let out a loud, filthy moan.

“Richie!!!” Eddie yelled, biting back a laugh.

“Oh yeah, scream my name, baby,” Richie winked, before losing his composure and starting to laugh out loud.

“Behave,” Eddie told him, smiling softly. “I promise I will scream your name soon. Just… wait until we have privacy, okay?”

Richie’s breath caught in his throat and he nodded.

“Can I sleep here? Just sleep, I promise,” Richie asked, then.

Eddie thought on it for a moment. “This bed’s too small,” he said. “Let’s go wake up Stan. He can sleep here for the night and we can use the Queen bed in your room. To sleep,” he stated, resolutely.

Richie kissed him softly and then, as soon as they were up, he raced Eddie to the door. “Last one in front of Stan’s door gets to wake him up!”

“Richie!” Eddie yelled, watching him open the door and run out. “Asshole,” he commented, fondly, following him out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so now that our boys finally talked we're going to have to properly listen to Bill, don't you think? He still has some explaining to do. Next time ;)
> 
> Also, I don't know if you noticed (and it will come up again in the final two chapters) but I might have a slight obsession with Eddie kissing Richie's jawline. Or simply with Richie's jaw. You can blame Bill Hader for that. You can actually blame him for everything. I do ;)
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	9. My Best Friends

The first thing Eddie saw when he opened his eyes the next morning was Richie’s face, soft and relaxed in sleep. Eddie smiled when he realized that his own hand was fisted in Richie’s shirt, and he scooted closer to snuggle against him. Richie sighed, burrowing impossibly close to Eddie, but didn’t wake up.

Judging by the light that filtered through the curtains, the sun had been up for a while but Eddie refused to let himself care. He knew that his need to use the bathroom would soon force him to leave the bed, but for the moment all he wanted was to enjoy the feel of Richie’s body against his own.

A cough caused Eddie to look up and he met Richie’s wide eyes.

“Morning,” Eddie smiled.

“Is it? So I’m not dreaming this? You’re… Uhm… Is this real?”

Eddie kissed Richie’s chin. “This is real.”

Richie closed his eyes.

“Rich?”

“Hmm.”

“Won’t you look at me?”

“Will you still be there if I open my eyes?” Richie whispered, and the uncertainty in his voice hit Eddie straight in the solar plexus.

“Not going anywhere,” he vowed. “Look at me?”

Richie complied and, as soon as he met Eddie’s smiling face, he hugged him close and buried his own face in Eddie’s hair.

“Wanted this for so long,” Richie murmured. “Waited forever just for this… I’m sorry if… I just don’t know if I can trust it, yet.”

“Trust what? Me?” Eddie asked, pained.

“No!” Richie leaned back so he could look him in the eye. “Not you, never you, Eds. It’s just… This, you know? You wanting me, wanting to be here with me. You saying that… That you… Uhm… You know, talking about feelings and telling me that you…”

“I love you, Richie.”

“Yeah,” Richie’s breath hitched. “That. I just… Are you sure? I can’t… Eddie, I would give you anything you want. Always. No questions asked. You know that. But this… If you’re not one hundred per cent sure it’s what you want… That _I_ am what you want… If you think you might get second thoughts or just, you know, real thoughts about all this and realize how absurd it is for you to want _me_ … Then, Eddie, I…”

“Beep beep, Richie,” Eddie ordered, but his voice was sweet and soft. “You’re the one thing I’ve always been sure of. Even when I didn’t know my own heart, even when I didn’t think I’d ever be able to talk to you about the way I felt or that you could ever feel the same, I was still sure of _you_ , Rich. You’re my constant, my anchor, my best friend and the bane of my existence,” Eddie chuckled when Richie let out a watery laugh at that. “I couldn’t have second thoughts because this? Being with you, like this? It’s been my only thought for as long as I can remember…”

“Eds…” Richie breathed out, then lowered his head in an attempt to capture Eddie’s lips. 

Eddie blocked him with a hand on his face. “Nope. Morning breath. We’re not doing this until you brush.”

“Eddieeeeee,” Richie whined.

“Don’t even think about it! And besides, I need to get up now. We got all mushy and I tried to ignore my bladder as much as I could because you needed reassurance,” Eddie softened his words with another kiss on the sharp line of Richie’s jaw. “But that ends here,” he declared, then moved to get up.

“Eddieeeeeeee,” Richie whined, louder, and tried to stop Eddie from moving.

“I’m gonna piss the bed if you don’t let me go, dickhead!”

“I’m not really into golden showers, Eduardo,” Richie grinned. “But I’ll try everything once and, well, it’s you so…”

“That’s disgusting, Richie! I could never… I would never… Ack!” Eddie twisted and turned until he broke free of Richie’s arms. Once he was up, he stood there glaring at Richie. 

Richie laughed at his furious expression. “Untwist your knickers, Spagheds. It was a joke. Go on, do your walk of shame out of here. I bet Stan’s been wanting to come back and get dressed.”

Only just remembering that he was wearing only his own boxers and one of Richie’s shirts, Eddie scrambled to put on his pants so that he wouldn’t have to go around the house half naked. Richie noticed with satisfaction that he didn’t bother changing back into his own shirt, though, but that instead Eddie threw one last glance back at the bed and then left the room still wearing Richie’s shirt.

Laying back down on the bed, Richie grinned.

*

When Eddie reached the bathroom, Stan was just coming out of it.

“Morning,” Stan said, with a knowing grin.

Eddie blushed. “Move, please. I need…” Eddie gestured to the bathroom, and Stan obliged.

“Good night?” He still asked before Eddie was able to close the door.

“Yes, thank you,” Eddie replied, primly, then he sighed. “Thank you for… you know, giving up your room last night.”

Stan smiled. “Ah yes, sleeping without an enormous idiot taking up three quarters of the bed was such a hardship.”

“I liked it,” Eddie confessed without thinking, then his eyes widened and he clapped a hand on his own mouth.

Stan laughed. “That’s good, I’m glad. Never tell me anything about it again, please.”

Eddie nodded. “Never. Are the others up?” 

“Bill and Mike are downstairs. No idea about Ben and Bev.”

“Okay, thanks. See you later,” Eddie said before shutting the bathroom door and locking it.

Still amused, Stan made his way towards the room he shared with Richie and entered without knocking.

“Missed you…” Richie said, softly.

“Oh, that’s sweet. Something tells me you didn’t actually mean me, but it’s still nice to hear,” Stan grinned.

Richie let out a little squeak and sat up on the bed. “Stanley! Warn a girl before entering her boudoir! I could have been naked!”

Stan rolled his eyes.

“Wait… Did you mean to catch me naked? Is that why you didn’t knock? Because, Staniel, I can get naked right now…” Richie made to take off his shirt.

“Do not!” Stan glared making Richie snort a laugh. “Save it for Eddie.”

Richie blushed and looked down at his lap.

“Rich? You okay? I just saw Eddie and it looked like things went well. Are you…”

“I’m good. Yeah, it’s… It’s good,” Richie looked at Stan with a small smile that Stan immediately returned.

“I’m very happy to hear it.”

“Thank you, Stan. You know for… Everything that you did. We… Eddie and I talked and… He says he loves me, Stan. He…”

“Of course he does, you idiot! I’ve been trying to get you to talk to him forever!” Stan grumbled.

“You… Wait, did you know?”

“No, of course not. I suspected. It was sort of obvious at times, you know? To everyone with eyes at least,” Stan cocked his head at Richie who put his hands up and pulled a ‘I have no idea what you mean’ face. “But I’m glad things are good now. I’m glad, Richie.”

Richie nodded, smiling. “Come on, I know you’re dying to say I told you so.”

“No. I’m not,” Stan’s face was serious and poised.

“Come oooooooon, Urine. Say it! Say. It. Say. It. Say. It,” Richie’s chant was accompanied by the slamming of his fists against his own knees.

“I will not tell you that, Richie. Mostly because there is no need for me to say it since you know perfectly well that I was right because… I told you so!”

Stan smirked, and Richie cackled.

*

When it was finally Richie’s turn to use the bathroom, he took his sweet time with it. He’d even brought clothes with him so that he didn’t have to make the trek back to the bedroom to get dressed, and he lingered in the shower as much as he could. 

Dressed up and feeling refreshed, Richie came out of the bathroom and immediately spotted Eddie by the library. He had his back at Richie and was perusing Bill’s collection of books. Richie watched while Eddie finally chose one, opened it in the middle, and started reading from it.

Richie smiled, understanding that Eddie was trying to pass the time while he waited for him to be done, but Eddie’s concentration also awoke a devilish instinct in Richie, and he tip-toed towards him until he was as close to Eddie’s back as he dared to be without alerting him of his presence.

“Watcha reading?” Richie asked right in Eddie’s ear, voice booming and slightly menacing.

Eddie let out a very undignified, high-pitched scream, dropped the book, then whirled around with his hands raised in a karate pose, ready to face what he obviously thought was an assailant.

“You… You… Fuck you, Richie!” Eddie yelled, when he saw him.

Richie collapsed on his knees, face down and shoulders hunched, and laughed.

“You’re such a piece of shit!”

Richie looked up at Eddie, trying to calm himself down, but when he saw that Eddie’s hands were still up, still in his karate pose, Richie completely lost it. He started guffawing, and leaned against Eddie with his head on Eddie’s hip.

Eddie breathed deeply for a moment, then placed one hand in Richie’s hair, tight at first then caressing, and let out a small chuckle.

“I’m gonna kill you,” Eddie told him, voice dripping with affection.

Still giggling a bit, Richie looked up at him. “Shit, I love you so much.”

“Yeah?” 

Richie nodded, finally getting up.

“Is everything okay here?” Mike asked, and both Richie and Eddie turned to look at him. Only then they realized that their antics had attracted the Losers’ attention and that the others were all looking at them now.

Mike and Bill had obviously ran up the stairs from the kitchen or wherever they’d been, Stan was leaning against the wall that separated two guest bedrooms, while Ben and Beverly were standing in front of the open door of Beverly’s room.

“Yep,” Richie said. “All good here. Right, Eds?”

Eddie sighed, nodding. “Sorry about your book, Bill. I was reading it but _someone_ decided to be funny…”

“I’m always funny,” Richie declared.

“You like to think so, yes. And yet…” Eddie bent down to retrieve the fallen book and put it back on the shelf.

“Don’t worry about it, Eddie,” Bill smiled. “Well guys, since we’re all here. It’s a bit too late for breakfast so Mike and I were thinking… brunch?”

The Losers all nodded their agreement but before they could move, Richie suddenly yelled.

“Wait! Wait, everybody. Freeze!”

No one dared to move a muscle.

“Richie, if you’re about to make another joke, I swear I will strangle you!” Eddie threatened.

“No, no. Wait… Ben? Did you just come out of Beverly’s bedroom?”

Everybody stared at Ben, who blushed deep red.

“Uhm… I… Uh… So…”

“Beep beep, Tozier! Unless you’d like to talk about where _Eddie_ spent the night,” Beverly said.

“So what you’re saying is that Ben spent the night, too?” Richie asked, with a grin.

Beverly hid a smile behind her hand and mock-glared at Richie.

“Did someone say brunch?” Ben asked, desperate for a change of subject.

“Hungry, are we, Haystack? Exercise much?”

Eddie pushed Richie towards the stairs. “Let’s go, Richie! Leave them be.”

“Thanks, Eddie,” Ben smiled, gratefully.

“Yes, Eds,” Beverly said. “Keep your boy in check!”

Stan, Mike, and Bill chuckled while going downstairs, and Richie blushed a bit. Eddie took Richie’s hand in his but, before they could start going down the stairs, he looked back up at Ben and Beverly.

“Oh, I will, Bev. But you might want to check _your_ boy, too, since his zipper’s down. I’m just telling you.”

Beverly laughed while Ben squeaked and looked down immediately.

Richie squeezed Eddie’s hand. “I’m so fucking in love with you.”

Eddie smiled and they went downstairs.

*

After brunch, after all the good-natured teasing and the congratulations, Bill finally asked the Losers to give him the chance to speak like he’d wanted to do since their first night together.

“We’ve been sort of sidetracked and separated yesterday,” Bill smiled, looking at Richie and Eddie. “But now that things are good, will you guys just sit with me and let me properly tell you about my book?”

Everybody agreed and they moved in unison towards the sitting room. Beverly sat in one of the armchairs and Ben immediately joined her by sitting on the arm and placing a hand on the backrest. Mike took the other armchair, while Stan sighed and went to sit on the sofa beside Richie and Eddie. Richie sat in the middle and had an armful of Eddie.

Bill stood in front of his friends and took a deep breath.

“As I said, I don’t know why I’m so drawn to horror stories,” he started. “I mean, you guys better than anyone in the world know that the trauma we lived through definitely played a part in that, but there is also something so fascinating in horror. A good horror story puts us, as a society, under a microscope. It uncovers our deepest fears, our true characters, and it makes us vulnerable and open. It’s impossible not to be attracted to something so revealing. Writing horror stories also lets me work out my own fears, eviscerate them, and maybe even get over them in a healthy way. Ever since my very first story was published and well received, I knew I would one day want to write about what happened to us back in Derry. But, I…”

Bill shook his head, trying to calm himself down and not stutter his way through what he knew was one of the most important conversations of his life.

“When I finally sat down to write it, something else happened. I missed you. I missed you guys so much, and I know we’re all equally to blame for losing contact. I know that, but I wanted… I really wanted you all back. Our closeness, our bond, our friendship that’s the most important of my life. I started writing about us and I immediately remembered how it felt to wake up in the morning knowing I would see you guys, that I would be with you, go on an adventure or just simply relax with you back at the quarry or at the Barrens, in the clubhouse. I wanted that back, now, in present times… As adults, you see? I think that wish transferred to the pages and soon I was writing us, at our age, being thrown together again, being close in the exact same way we were when we were kids and killed Pennywise. My subconscious brought the clown back to life because, I think, that was the only way I could have you all back… On the page, at least. I wrote it, the story poured out of me so fast I almost couldn’t keep up with it, and of course I did it the only way I know how: Like a tragedy; a painful, blood-soaked, long agony. Sacrifices were made, there was so much loss – which, I’m not a therapist but one could say it symbolized the huge hole in my life that was your absence – but in the end we came out of it victorious and our bond was fortified by it.”

“But you had the scar disappear,” Ben commented.

Bill nodded. “That was… The scar, the blood-oath, I didn’t write that in as a metaphor for our bond. That was solely connected to the clown. Our counterparts in the book weren’t able to kill It that Summer, and had to swear to come back and finish the job if the need arose. That was the reason for the oath, that was why they had the scar. After It was truly dead, the scar wasn’t needed anymore. But we didn’t forget again… The characters, I mean… They didn’t forget. They won, they left the cursed town for good, but they kept in touch and never lost one another again. That was my endgame.”

“You based the characters on us,” Mike said. “How did you decide who to sacrifice? I think that’s what hit me the most, you know? How did you choose who died and who lived? Who lost the most and who, in the end, gained the most?”

Bill closed his eyes. “I don’t choose. The story does.”

“Bill,” Eddie chastised. “Come on…”

“No, Eddie, I’m not… It’s not a cop out! I swear. It’s what happens… It’s what always happens to me. The story wants to go where it wants, where it makes sense for it to go. If it weren’t like that for me, I would have never been able to write characters based on you guys! Never!”

“So the story chooses the path,” Beverly cocked her head. “How? Help us understand.”

“Okay, so let’s… We’re talking about the characters I sacrificed or hurt the most so let’s talk about them. _Samuel_ , Stan’s character. He commits suicide because he cannot come back and face It with the others. This does _not_ mean I think Stan himself is weak or a coward, or that I believe he would ever kill himself. Of course not! It’s just… Stan, you remember how you were that Summer. You were the last one to accept what was happening to us, the last to agree to come to Neibolt with us, and the only one who almost kept insisting it all had to be a weird dream even while we were facing Pennywise. In my book _Samuel_ had all those traits, and more. He did not want _Barry_ , my character, to cut his palm for the oath, and he even joked about the cut being done to his wrist! It all just… It made sense, you see?”

Stan nodded and waved Bill’s explanations away. They’d talked about it already and he’d come to terms with Bill’s choice.

“What I wanna know,” Richie said. “Is why you would name your character _Barry_. What the fuck, man?”

Everybody chuckled, accepting what was so obviously an attempt to lighten the mood on Richie’s part, and Eddie grinned proudly up at him.

Bill smiled. “I did it because of you, Rich.”

“Me? What the fuck would I name a character _Barry_ for?”

“You used to call me Big Bill, is all. And I wanted… I wanted to have a name that I could find a similar nickname for. So, _Ronnie_ calls _Barry_ , Big Bear. Made sense, see?” 

Richie placed a hand on his chest. “I feel so loved… Wait, did you choose all the names so you could adapt my nicknames for you guys?”

“Pretty much,” said Bill. “That’s why _Bea_ , Bev’s character, is nicknamed Claire Standish – Molly Ringwald’s character in ‘The Breakfast Club’ – or why _Blake_ , the character I modeled after Ben, has Hancox as a last name: So _Ronnie_ could call him Haycock which, as you know, is just another way to say Haystack.”

Richie grinned. “Still think Sampoo is your best one.”

Stan groaned and covered his face with both hands while the others laughed.

Bill shook his head, smiling. “Eddie, I’m sorry about sacrificing _Emerson_ …” He started, but Richie’s chuckle interrupted him.

“What are you laughing at, asshole?” Eddie punched Richie in the arm.

“Ow! I wasn’t laughing at that! I just… I remembered what _Ronnie_ calls _Emerson_ …”

Eddie scowled, directing a glare at Bill. “Not funny, dickhead.”

“Sorry, Eddie…” Bill laughed.

Richie, meantime, gleefully continued, “Ems, _Ronnie_ calls him… but also Eeny Meeny Miny Moe! HA! I love it, Big Bill!”

The Losers all laughed, and Eddie pouted. Richie held him tight and kissed his forehead. “Adorable and tiny in any incarnation.”

“I hate you, Richie!” 

Richie grinned.

“Don’t mind them, Bill,” Stan said. “Go on, you were saying…”

“I knew early on that, the way the story was going, not all of the characters would make it out of the cistern. I had no idea who would die, but I knew it was coming. And then… The parallels, you see? Beverly got caught in the Deadlights, and so did _Bea_. Ben saved her with a kiss, and in the book _Blake_ did the same. So when _Ronnie_ threw rocks at It to save Mike’s character, _Matt_ , and got himself caught in the Deadlights… There was only one character that could save him. The bravest of all. The one who didn’t believe in himself as well as he should have but in the end proved to everyone just how big of a badass he’d always been: _Emerson_. From there, well… It just happened.”

Everyone nodded, and Eddie cocked his head at Bill.

“Yes, well, I’m not thanking you for taking my character out and then leaving him there to rot! You can compliment me all you want but it will not happen!” Eddie’s mouth curved in a small smile so Bill knew he wasn’t really mad.

Richie, on the other hand, stiffened. “What the hell was up with that, Bill? You think we would just abandon Eds or anyone down there and run? You think _I_ would ever let you do that to him? To me?”

“Richie…” Eddie whispered, and Richie’s arms tightened around him. From the other side of Richie, Stan also grabbed a fistful of his sleeve and held on. Richie breathed.

“It’s a horror story, Rich,” Bill reiterated, voice soft and apologetic. “It’s misery, and sorrow, and making the hard choices in order to save the living. _Emerson_ was dead, but the others could still save _Ronnie_ and that’s what they did. It was less of a conscious decision to abandon one and more of a need to make sure the other found safety. It was selfish, maybe, but they’d lost two of their own and they couldn’t face losing a third one. Besides, to be frank, it was one of those things storytellers do in order to let the story leave a deeper impact on the reader; shock and horrify them so that they’ll be haunted by it for days afterwards. Once again, it doesn’t have its roots in reality. It does not mean I wouldn’t want to try and carry my friend’s body out of that cave, nor it means you’d be okay with letting it happen. It’s a story, Richie, and sometimes it can take roads we ourselves would never travel. But I am sorry if that caused you distress… I really, really am. Okay?”

“Okay,” Richie murmured.

“Shall we talk about everything else you put _Ronnie_ through, Bill?” Beverly asked. “Losing his best friend and his crush in the span of a couple of days, being forced to leave _Emerson_ behind, making tasteless jokes about _Samuel’s_ suicide… Or maybe, I don’t know, the carving?”

“Bev…” Ben warned.

“No. Absolutely not, Ben!” Beverly directed her glare at Bill even as she addressed Ben. “How could you do that, Bill? That was in confidence and, yes, looking at it now,” she said gesturing towards the sofa where Richie held a wide-eyed Eddie, “it resulted in a good thing but… it was still such a betrayal! It wasn’t yours to reveal!”

Bill hung his head. “You’re right. I’m sorry. Richie and I… We t-t-talked and I… I’m so s-s-suh-sorry, Rich… Please, t-t-try to understand…”

“I do, Billiam,” Richie interrupted, taking pity on his friend. “It’s alright, Bev. Not that I didn’t just enjoy witnessing the ass kicking I’d been promised,” he winked, and Beverly stuck her tongue out at him. “But it’s really okay. Isn’t it, Eds?”

“More than okay,” Eddie confirmed. “It’s all good.”

Bill thanked them with a smile.

“ _Ronnie_ really was the one who lost the most in your story, Bill,” Mike said, then. “Did that also happened organically? Did you not realize what you were doing to Richie’s character?”

“In fairness, Mikey, Bill stuck _Matt_ , your character, alone in Derry – or ‘the cursed town’, whatever, same difference, am I right? – for almost thirty years! Not sure that qualifies as him getting off easy,” Richie said.

Nodding, Mike smiled.

“To answer your question, Mike,” Bill said. “I think in a way I knew that I was putting Richie’s character through the ringer and I both hated it and found it made perfect sense. _Ronnie_ was strong, as strong as Richie, so I knew he’d be one of the survivors, and at the same time I knew he also was the only character I could inflict the biggest losses on because of who he was in the story. I’d already sacrificed _Samuel_ and he was the closest to _Ronnie_ so, as soon as the parallel between the two couples of the book, if that’s what we want to call them, presented itself… It made complete sense. It sucked, of course it did, but, once again… This is horror we’re talking about, guys.”

“Yeah, well, thanks for nothing. _Boss_ ,” Richie quipped, tongue-in-cheek.

Bill laughed. “You’re welcome, _lieutenant_.”

They grinned at one another while the others looked at them like they’d lost their minds.

“But hey, let’s go back to your comment about couples, Big Bill,” Richie had a wicked gleam in his eyes. “So Ben and Bev, can we say you’re the embodiment of a self-fulfilling prophecy?”

The others laughed while Ben blushed deep red.

“Oh shut up, Richie,” Beverly snapped. “Why don’t we talk about the two of you instead, all warm and cuddly over there?”

Eddie flipped Beverly off, and Richie cackled.

“Shit, I missed this so much…” Bill whispered; then, exhausted and visibly overwhelmed, he curled in on himself and started crying.

The Losers froze up for a moment and then they all got up in unison and circled Bill. In a flash, they all had their arms around Bill and around each other, and more than one eye was wet.

Their hug lasted for a long time and by the time they separated, they all knew everything was forgiven and forgotten.

“All I have left to say is: You better cast me in the role of _Ronnie_ when they adapt this into a movie,” Richie demanded, always wanting the last word. 

Bill grinned.

*

Everyone’s flight was leaving that same evening so, after the emotional conversation ended, they all went upstairs to pack. Bill shut himself in his own bedroom and called Audra to tell her everything that happened.

Richie threw everything he’d brought with him in his duffel bag hastily, then went to Eddie’s room.

“Come in,” Eddie invited, but didn’t turn around. He was carefully placing his clothes back in his big suitcase, but the slump in his shoulders was very telling.

In two strides, Richie went to him and turned him around. Once Eddie was facing him, Richie took him in his arms and held him tight.

“I don’t wanna go…” Eddie whined.

“Me either. But I… I have to be in the studio tomorrow afternoon. I have a recording session for an animated movie I’m voicing… I can’t miss it, Eds, otherwise you know I’d come with you to New York. You know that, right?”

Eddie nodded against Richie’s chest. “I did read you were working,” he confessed. “I believed you wouldn’t come this weekend because of it.”

“I thought about using that as an excuse, yes, but Stan wouldn’t let me. I have so much to thank him for…”

“We both do. Richie, I… I’m gonna come to LA. You know my company has branches there, too, and I can manage it from there just as well as I do in New York. And then, when you’re away, shooting a movie or something, I can travel to New York or DC. But I want to make LA my home base. Assuming that’s… Uhm… Is that okay with you, Rich?”

“Yes…” Richie whimpered.

“Are you… Wait, Richie, are you crying?!”

Eddie leaned back so he could look up at Richie and saw that, yes, he was indeed crying.

“Stop that, you idiot…”

“Don’t tell me what to do!”

“I’m not telling you what to do! I’m just telling you to stop crying!”

“And what, pray tell, is the difference in that??”

“It’s in… It’s because… Oh for fuck’s sake!”

Eddie grabbed Richie’s wet face with both hands, wiped the tears away, then stood on tip-toes and kissed him.

Richie moaned in Eddie’s mouth and held him tight, one hand in Eddie’s hair and the other on his ass.

“Not here…” Eddie murmured on Richie’s lips.

Richie whined.

“None of that. Gonna go back to New York tonight,” Eddie said, kissing Richie softly again. “Gonna set my affairs in order,” another kiss, “then I’ll come to LA and you will fuck me as long and as hard as you want. And then I’ll fuck you.”

“Jesus, Eddie… Fuck!” Richie ground his half hard cock into Eddie’s stomach.

“Later,” Eddie reiterated, smiling softly and biting back his own moan.

“You’re gonna kill me…”

“Yep. But I’ll be sure to let you enjoy it, first.”

*

Bill stood on his front porch with the others, waving at Mike who was the first to leave. He promised to call as soon as he got back home safe, and immediately joined the group chat that Beverly set up for the Losers.

Ben and Beverly had booked the same flight out so they were leaving together again and, judging by the way Ben seemed unable to let go of Beverly’s hand, it was unlikely they would go their separate ways even after they landed safely in San Francisco.

Stan’s flight for Atlanta left one hour after Richie’s, but they’d driven from the airport together so Stan was still going away at the same time Richie was. Eddie grumbled when he realized that his own flight departed from Gatwick while Richie’s was leaving from Heathrow and that meant they couldn’t be together while they waited to board.

The Losers were saying goodbye again but this time, Bill was sure, they would not make the same mistake again. The group chat was already active, even as most of them still stood together on Bill’s porch, and their newfound closeness would ensure they would stay in touch. There was a high probability that they would go back to being dangerously co-dependent and bound to one another so tight that not even light could find its way among them, but that felt to Bill like simply re-establishing the order of things.

Once again, the Losers fought and came out on the other side, victorious; but this time the Lucky Seven were intact, thriving, and still inevitably together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter concludes our story, but that doesn't mean there isn't more to tell. And I know you're most likely scrolling up to check that "explicit sexual content" tag... I remember it, too! I put it there for a reason, and next time I'll make good on that promise ;)
> 
> Oh, and the Barry thing... couldn't resist! LOL
> 
> Final chapter may be posted earlier, btw; I was thinking to post on Friday so check for that. Meantime, I want to thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed the journey so far.


	10. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Explicit sexual content features in this chapter, if you need details about it check the end notes :)
> 
> Also, this chapter marks the return of the group chat because I love it and can't write a story without putting it in.

**One Year Later**

_Directed by Jason Caldwell, “The Clown” adapts for the screen Bill Denbrough’s latest best-selling book. Caldwell, personal friend of Denbrough’s wife, Audra Phillips – who also stars in the movie as Beatrice McRae, the only female member of the Lucky Seven – translates to the screen what is undoubtedly a compelling story of friendship dipped in delicious, blood-curling horror._

_“The Clown” takes us to a small, cursed town where an ancient evil who feeds on people’s fears also resides. Yet, this is the story of seven friends, the so called Lucky Seven, brought together by a shared history of abuse, neglect, and violent bullying, who in time discover just how important their bond is not only for them, but for the good of the whole town. They, and they alone, are able to confront the titular monster, The Clown, as well as their own fears and beat ‘It’ not once, but twice._

_Without giving too much away, this reviewer would like to point out that the underlying message of the book as well as the movie is almost more important than the thrill of seeing one of Bill Denbrough’s wicked and terrifying plots unfold: When you find a true friend, one you’d be willing to go to war with, one you know perfectly well would lay down their life for you, there is nothing that can come between the two – or seven – of you. Not fear, not loss, not magically altered memories. Not even death, or an alien spider Clown._

_The entire cast delivers compelling and noteworthy performances, but this reviewer could not help but identify that two actors stand high above everyone else. Bill Skarsgard’s performance as The Clown is masterfully crafted, bone-chilling, and absolutely petrifying. I can guarantee you that, if you already felt uneasy in front of a clown, after seeing this movie and Skarsgard’s performance you will be viscerally afraid of them._

_The other stand out is, without any sort of doubt, Richie Tozier in his portrayal of Ronnie Townsend. Denbrough recently confessed that all the characters he created for his book were inspired by his real life friends, and that Ronnie was strongly based on Tozier. Something like that could be reason enough to offer a lazy, relaxed performance – an actor playing a version of himself almost always makes that mistake – but what Tozier does with the character of Ronnie is not something one could call lazy. And it certainly wasn’t relaxed, or relaxing. Tozier gives life to a Ronnie that will make you laugh even when you want to strangle him, even when you wish he would shut up and take things seriously; and then, in a completely unforeseen turn of events, Tozier will show you that the same character can break your heart and make you shed all of your tears with just one look, one scream… One agonizing call of a name._

_“The Clown” opens in theatres this coming Friday and, despite not being a fan of horror movies, this reviewer whole-heartedly reccommends you go check it out. The movie is as scary as it is funny, and it’s well worth a couple of hours of your time._

*

Leaning against the door of his and Richie’s bedroom, Eddie smiled observing his fiancé grimace at himself in front of the full length mirror.

“What is wrong now?” Eddie asked, moving to stand behind Richie. When he could see himself in the mirror as well, Eddie took a moment to appreciate the view. He had to admit they cut a very handsome picture together.

Eddie was wearing a black Armani tux, with a white dress shirt, but he’d caved to Richie’s demands and decided to forgo the tie. Richie, on the other hand, wore a midnight blue bespoke suit with a very light blue shirt underneath and was, in Eddie’s opinion, unfairly hot. He wore contact lenses and had his trademark three days stubble. In fairness, Eddie tried to get Richie to shave for the premiere, but Richie won that argument when he spent countless minutes the previous night running his prickly chin over the insides of Eddie’s thighs and all over his ass, driving him mad and forcing him to beg for Richie to finally stop and eat Eddie out like he’d promised to do.

“You look hot,” Eddie told him, caressing his back.

Richie looked at his partner’s reflection in the mirror. “I hate suits. I feel like I’m being sunburned,” he grumbled. “Please say I can wear jeans and a T-shirt? I found one with a tux printed on it! That’d be perfect, right? Riiiiight?”

“I’m not even gonna dignify that with a response. Stop whining and move your ass. The car’s gonna be here soon enough.”

“Eddieeeeee.”

“None of that,” Eddie glared. “Besides, you know I always make it worth your while. You dress up properly for me, and then you get your treat.”

Richie laughed. “You know, when you say it like that it makes me want to call you Master. Now, that’s a thought…”

“Shut up,” Eddie blushed. “You know that’s not… I don’t…”

Richie turned and put his hands on Eddie’s arms. “Relax, Spaghetti Head. I know. No power play between us. I was just teasing.”

Eddie rolled his eyes at the nickname, but smiled. 

“But,” Richie continued. “I wouldn’t be opposed to you telling me what you have in mind for my _treat_. Look,” he spread his arms open and grinned. “I’m all dressed up in this fucking death trap. What do I get for it?”

Eddie grinned. He stepped closer to Richie, looked him straight in the eyes, and whispered, “You put the suit on, so I deserve to take it off of you. Slowly, enjoying my time with it. And then, when you’re all naked and aching for me to touch you… Will you be already hard, Rich?”

Breathing harshly, Richie nodded.

“Yeah, you will, won’t you? Hard, and wet, and naked in front of me, and I’ll still be wearing my tux,” Eddie gestured at himself and enjoyed the way Richie’s heated gaze followed his movements. “I do think I’ll need to be naked, too, wouldn’t you say? So, I won’t touch you, Richie. I’ll make you watch while I take off my clothes, and then I’ll go lie on the bed on my back.”

Richie groaned. “Then what? Please, Eddie…”

“I don’t know, I thought I’d let you decide. I’m naked and ready on the bed. What do you want to do with me, Rich? Maybe you might like to ride me?”

Richie closed his eyes and whimpered, shivering all over. 

Eddie chuckled. “Come on, time to go now.”

“Noooooo,” Richie whined. “I can’t go like this!” He gestured to his hard cock, clearly visible through the tight fit of his trousers, and Eddie sighed.

“We don’t have time, Richie.”

“Won’t take that long, I can assure you,” Richie pleaded, putting on his best puppy dog eyes.

Eddie decided he didn’t really want to resist, and he knew that Richie was too stressed for the premiere and too worked up by the fantasy Eddie had conjured to last too long, so he went to sit at the foot of their bed and gestured for Richie to come stand in between his legs.

Richie scrambled to comply, and in a flash he had his big, hard cock out and had lowered his pants and briefs mid-thigh. Eddie’s mouth watered and he licked his lips. Richie’s lifelong joke about the size of his dick turned out not to have been a joke at all, and Eddie had long since come to terms with the fact that he was enormously – pun intended – happy about it. 

“Hands behind your back, Rich,” Eddie ordered. “I won’t have you mess up my hair. And if you wrinkled that suit of yours, I’m gonna kill you.”

“That is so hot, Eds,” Richie grinned. “You sure you don’t want me to call you Sir…”

Eddie glared, then took the head of Richie’s cock in his mouth and gave it a hard suck. That shut Richie up effectively, mouth open in a silent scream, and Eddie smiled around Richie’s dick. Worried that his saliva could ruin Richie’s suit, and mindful of the fact that they really did not have more than a couple of minutes before the limo he reserved arrived, Eddie put his recently mastered deep-throating skills to good use and successfully brought Richie off in less than a minute.

Panting and with his fists tightly closed behind himself, Richie let out a deep, satisfied groan when he came, and Eddie kept him in his mouth a moment longer before he released him. He bent to retrieve one of the small towels he kept stacked on his bedside table, and wiped Richie’s cock off; he tucked Richie in, enjoying the way Richie looked down at him with wide, incredibly fond eyes while Eddie dressed him back up, then smiled to himself.

“Gonna go rinse my mouth. I’ll see you downstairs,” Eddie said, and moved towards the en suite bathroom.

“I feel like a cheap whore,” Richie joked. “What, not even a kiss?”

Eddie threw him a look over his shoulder. “I just swallowed your cum. I’m gonna rinse. Deal with it.”

Richie laughed, “I love you, Spaghetti.”

Eddie stopped in the doorway, turned fully towards Richie, and blew him a kiss that Richie made a show of catching and placing carefully in the pocket of his jacket.

“Jizzy kiss!” He shouted, happily.

Eddie groaned entering the bathroom.

*

On the red carpet, Richie refused to let go of Eddie’s hand and simply pulled him along the whole way. He was only forced to relinquish him when he was asked to pose with James, the director, and Audra, and the rest of the cast, both adults and teenagers, for the ritual ensemble photographs. 

Bill joined in for a few of those pictures, too, and then he looked at Richie, nodded towards Eddie and the other Losers who were all standing in the back chatting amongst themselves, and together they went to pull them front and center on the red carpet. The photographers went wild, shouting at the Losers to move this or that way and let them all capture the very first official picture of the friends who were the true inspiration behind the movie.

“Mister Denbrough! Mister Denbrough!” Someone shouted, and Bill turned towards the voice. “Are these the Lucky Seven? Are we seeing the true faces behind the characters?”

Standing between Mike and Richie, Bill grinned. “These people are my family,” he shouted back. “Say hi, Losers!”

A chorus of, “Hi!” followed Bill’s invite and then the Losers all started to laugh. The picture that immortalized that moment instantly became the poster one for the event.

*

“The Clown” was an instant success, earning more than any horror movie ever did just on the first weekend and, only a month later, it was declared one of the highest grossing movies of the year.

During that same month, many things happened to the Losers and the group chat was active at every hour, day and night.

Bill started a new book and kept sending small excerpts to the others. The book was about a nest of vampires whose powers connected to Dracula himself and therefore allowed them to walk in the sun, undisturbed and unseen, so they could hunt humans as much and as freely as they wanted. Monsters hiding themselves amongst people, disguised by their mask of humanity, able to fool everyone into thinking they were respectable members of society… The way Bill described all that was, admittedly, terrifying, but Richie constantly joked about Bill drawing inspiration from Twilight and Buffy The Vampire Slayer therefore those chats always ended cracking everybody up.

Mike met an Italian woman during his stay in Florence and soon found himself madly in love with her. She was also a photographer and, after they started dating, she started following Mike around the world and joined in his work. Her name was Chiara, and she’d been quite on edge the first time she’d met the Losers. It was obvious she wanted to make a good impression on the people she knew Mike loved most in the world, but she soon discovered she had nothing to fear. The Losers took one look at Mike, saw how happy he was with Chiara, and wholeheartedly accepted her in their midst.

Stan and Patty’s daughter, Diana, turned one year old. When Stan left for the weekend with the Losers in Bill’s house, Patty was already pregnant but she’d only found out after he came back. The Losers flew to Georgia to celebrate with Stan and Patty, and by the end of their stay, Diana knew three new words. Until then she’d only been able to say _mama_ , _dada_ , _no_ , and _up_ whilst everything else came out as garbled nonsense that she adorably disguised as proper speech; when the weekend was over, Diana could also say _oosah_ for Losers, _chee_ for Richie, and _fuck_ that she inexplicably pronounced perfectly, and that everyone rightfully blamed Richie and Eddie for. 

And then, one day the group chat sprang to life and Beverly shared some delightful news of her own.

 **Bev:** *picture of baby shoes*

 **Bill:** ???

 **Mike:** The angle of that picture is all wrong, Bev. Also, when shooting inanimate objects you want to give them a bit of a flare, a movement of sort. 

**Richie:** How do you beep someone other than me?

 **Mike:** For example, you might want to lay one of the shoes down on its side so you can have…

 **Mike:** Oh. Uhm… Sorry?

 **Eddie:** Don’t worry about it, Mikey. That was actually very interesting.

 **Richie:** You were fucking yawning, Spagheds. I know, I’m sitting on your lap right now.

 **Bill:** Beep beep, Richie!

 **Richie:** Hey! 

**Bill:** We don’t wanna hear about your weird sex life!

 **Eddie:** Who the fuck are you calling weird, Bill??

 **Richie:** Woo hoo! Fight! Fight! Fight!

 **Eddie:** Dickhead.

 **Bill:** Shut up, Richie. You too, Eddie!

 **Mike:** *laughing emoji*

 **Eddie:** You shut up, Bill!

 **Ben:** GUYS! Missing the point!

 **Bill:** What point?

 **Eddie:** I was making a point, too, you know Ben?

 **Richie:** Is there a point? In anything, I mean? What is life? Why are we here?

 **Mike:** Eddie, would you mind hitting Richie for us?

 **Richie:** Joke’s on you, Mike! I actually enjoy that. Oh yes, Eds, spank me!

 **Eddie:** I’m breaking up with you.

 **Stan:** Why am I friends with you guys? Congratulations, Beverly! You too, Ben!! Wonderful news.

 **Mike:** News?

 **Bill:** What news?

 **Richie:** Oh fuck! Really?

 **Bev:** Yes, you bunch of Losers! I’m pregnant!! Three months!

 **Eddie:** That’s wonderful, you guys!

 **Mike:** I’m so happy for you!!

 **Bill:** Congratulations!

 **Ben:** Thank you, guys! But wait… where’s Richie? I was expecting at least one daddy joke here.

 **Eddie:** Sorry, Ben. That’ll have to wait. He’s bawling like an infant at the moment.

 **Bev:** You’re such a softie, Trashmouth!

 **Richie:** *middle finger emoji*

*

“I’m gonna marry you,” Richie murmured, dreamily, in Eddie’s hair.

They were lying on their bed, lazily refusing to get up since it was a Sunday and they didn’t have anywhere to be, and Eddie looked up at Richie.

“Well, yeah? I distinctly remember you saying yes when I asked. Or maybe you didn’t? I mean, at one point you were crying so much I couldn’t understand a word you said…”

“Asshole,” Richie grinned. 

Eddie kissed his chest then put his head back on it. “So what’s with the declaration now? Thought we’d established that already.”

“No, I know. It’s just… Sometimes I need to repeat it to myself. Over and over, because… Well… It’s really happening, right? It’s real…”

“It’s real, Richie. I’m all yours, like I told you I was since the very first time we finally admitted our feelings. And you’re all mine,” Eddie looked at him again. “Aren’t you?”

“All yours. Call me Mr. Spaghetti.”

Eddie pinched Richie’s side making him squirm.They settled against one another again, and Eddie found himself torn between trying to sleep some more and taking advantage of his own, as well as Richie’s, nakedness and go for round two.

Richie’s chuckle made him lean back once more. “What are you laughing about now?”

“Beverly’s gonna be huge at our wedding, Eds! She’s gonna be eight months pregnant, and she’s gonna be enormous!”

Eddie smiled. “She’s still gonna be the most beautiful person there, you know?”

Richie nodded. “She’ll be even more gorgeous than usual, yes, but… She’s not gonna be the most beautiful there, Eds. That’s gonna be you.”

Eddie blushed before leaning forward and kissing Richie. Soon, he was lying completely on top of Richie and, when he opened his legs to allow Eddie to slide in between them, they both sighed when they half hard cocks came in contact with each other.

“What do you want?” Richie asked, on Eddie’s lips. “Anything you want. Always.”

Eddie ground against Richie and kissed him softly. “Want you to fuck me.”

Richie’s eyes sparkled and his cock twitched. “Yeah? How do you want it, Eddie baby?”

Eddie pecked Richie’s lips once more than got up off him and lay face down on the bed. He put a small pillow underneath his hips so as to raise them off the bed, then looked sideways up at Richie.

“Like this. Want you to lie down on me, cover me completely. Want you to hold my hands, open my legs, and just make me take it. I’m yours, so show me how much.”

Richie groaned loudly and had to wrap a hand at the base of his dick for fear of coming on the spot. “Shit, Eddie…”

Eddie winked, then moved his hips up and down presenting Richie with a perfect view of his ass. He also opened his legs invitingly and moaned softly at the friction of his cock against the pillow. Distantly, in the back of his mind, a voice reminded Eddie that he hadn’t placed a towel on the pillow and that it would most likely be ruined by the time they were done, but he couldn’t really bring himself to care. The satiny feel of the pillowcase felt deliciously good against his hardness and that was all Eddie could think of.

Richie knelt behind Eddie, in between his legs, and spread him open. He spent some time watching Eddie’s hole twitch and enjoying the little movements Eddie was still making, then lowered his head and licked a long stripe from Eddie’s balls to his hole.

Eddie whined. “Richie…”

“Taste so good, Eds…”

“Don’t wanna wait. Want you inside. Gimme your fingers, please!”

Richie grinned against Eddie’s ass. “But I want to taste,” he teased before licking up and down his hole.

Eddie moaned and pushed his ass against Richie’s face. “Fingers. Now.”

Richie laughed, his breath tickling Eddie’s ass and making him squirm, but he complied. He sat back up, grabbed the lube and squeezed a generous amount on his middle and fore finger. They’d played already before, and Richie had thrust a finger inside Eddie while he was sucking him off, so he knew he could well start with two already now.

“Ready?” He still asked, and Eddie moaned in reply and sluttily opened his legs a bit more.

Richie’s fingers slowly but surely found their way inside Eddie and he didn’t waste any time. As soon as he was sure that Eddie had adjusted to the intrusion, Richie started fucking him with his fingers in earnest. He scissored them and crooked them in order to be able to hit Eddie’s prostate over and over.

“Gimme three…” Eddie asked almost immediately. “Need more. Need you. Gonna come otherwise. Don’t… Ah! Don’t wanna come without you. Want… holy shit, Richie, there!! Want you!”

Richie quickly lubed up his ring finger, too, and when he pulled his fingers out he made sure to slip the third one in along with the other two when he pushed back inside.

“You open up so nicely for me, Eds,” he complimented, panting heavily.

“Shit, fuck… Making me wait… Richie! There, oh my god, there! You’re making me wait too long…Ah! Next time I’m fucking you, I’ll… oh shit! I’ll keep you open on my f-fuuuuck-fingers for ages, you… Richie!!”

Richie laughed. “Something tells me you want something. Now, what could that be?”

“Gonna kill yuh… oh shit, fuck, Jesus!”

Teasing Eddie was one of Richie’s greatest pleasures but he was quickly losing his own patience too so, with one last wicked twist of his fingers that had Eddie moan so loud Richie was sure they could hear him from the city center, Richie pulled out his fingers, put on a condom and lubed himself up before carefully sliding inside.

He took his time, moving slowly inch by inch until he was almost completely inside Eddie, and then he let his weight fall on Eddie’s body. With his strong thighs forcibly keeping Eddie’s legs spread, with his hips flush against his ass, with his chest pressed against Eddie’s back and his fingers tight in Eddie’s, Richie took Eddie’s earlobe in his mouth and sucked on it.

He let Eddie feel his body wholly covering his own, then with a firm snap of his hips Richie slid all the way inside him and started fucking into him. Eddie moaned and tried to push back against Richie but his weight kept him pinned and that, in turn, heightened his pleasure and his arousal.

“Fuck… Me…”

“Yeah?” Richie breathed in Eddie’s ear. “Like this?” He asked, angling his hips and delivering a particularly deep thrust. “Harder?”

Eddie nodded frantically, unable to speak, and Richie took his time grinding his hips against Eddie’s ass so that he could feel his cock deep inside. Then, finally losing the last of his restraint, Richie fucked Eddie fast and hard, making him scream and explosively come on the pillow. 

Eddie’s hole clenched around Richie’s cock so he had to stay still until he could feel Eddie relax a bit, and only then he could deliver his final, uncoordinated thrusts and come himself inside the condom. 

Knowing full well by then that Eddie did love being squished by Richie while they were fucking but that he would soon start to feel suffocated if Richie didn’t move off him, he slid sideways to lay down on the bed. Swiftly he removed and tied up the condom before throwing it in the trash can beside the bed, then Richie bonelessly threw himself back on the bed and breathed.

Soon, Eddie was sliding the pillow out from underneath himself – grimacing when he could feel it stick to his skin – then curled up against Richie who immediately pulled him in tight.

“I love your dick,” Eddie said.

“It loves you,” Richie grinned. “You’re its favorite parking spot.”

“Oh my god, beep fucking beep, you dick!”

“If I’m a dick, does that mean you love me?”

Eddie sighed. “It pisses me off that the answer to that question is yes. I’m disappointed in myself,” Eddie told him, softening his words with a small kiss to Richie’s shoulder.

Richie smiled, burrowing closer.

“I need a shower,” Eddie declared after only a few minutes.

“Why? I like your stink.”

“I do not stink, asshole!”

“Then you don’t need a shower, do you? Tozier scores again!” Richie made a cheering noise that caused Eddie to snort.

Eddie wriggled free of Richie and stuck his tongue out at his pout. “You can always come with me, you know? Actually, you should come with me.”

“You saying _I_ stink, Eduardo?”

“I was gonna say that I wanted you to wash my back but now that you point it out…”

Richie sat up, outraged. “I do not stink, asshole!” He said, imitating Eddie’s tone from earlier impressively.

Eddie laughed out loud. “I don’t sound like that, dickhead.”

“I don’t sound like that, dickhead.”

“Richie, stop it,” Eddie glared.

“Richie, stop it,” Richie repeated again before failing to keep his composure and starting to cackle.

Eddie made a show of keeping up his glare, but soon he was smiling while he walked to the bathroom.

“Are you gonna come or…”

“Again? You’re insatiable, Eddie my love!”

“I’m divorcing you the day after I marry you. Actually, you know what? I’m gonna marry you just so I can legally divorce you and dump your sexy ass,” Eddie threatened entering the bathroom, a big smile on his face.

Still laughing, Richie got up to follow him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Explicit content includes: dirty talk, oral sex, deepthroating, cum swallowing, rimming, anal fingering, anal sex, Eddie is a bit bossy but no D/s, top Richie (but it's heavily implied that they switch), and Richie has a big cock that Eddie loves. 
> 
> This is where I leave you. I hope you enjoyed the story and thank you again to everyone who read and stopped by to comment or leave kudos. I really appreciated every single one.


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